Give Me a Second Go
by RachelJennings
Summary: After a long, stressful week all Emma wants to do is go relax in a nice, hot bubble bath. Life, it seems, has other plans for her. Killian Jones is back in Storybrooke, and he's up to something. This is a story about second chances... for everyone.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a long day. After she and Snow had made it back to Storybrooke, Emma'd had some cleaning up to do. David had filled in as best he could, but being sheriff wasn't his job. Much to her dismay, Emma's first week back in town had been filled with answering phone calls from annoyed citizens and catching up on the necessary paperwork. All she wanted was to go back to her apartment and relax in a nice, hot bath. Regina, however, refused to allow her even that.

She had just turned the key to lock up the police station when she heard the familiar clicking of Regina's heels on the cold asphalt. _Great._

"Ms. Swan."

"Is there something you need, Regina?" she said, trying to be as cordial as possible. She wanted this conversation to be over quickly.

"Yes, you can give me back my son," she spat back.

Annoyed by the unprovoked hostility, she threw her arms up. "Look, Regina, I don't wanna do this right now. Can we just meet you for breakfast tomorrow or something?"

Her suggestion was met with a stare cold enough to freeze hot magma, but to her surprise Regina agreed. "Very well. Tomorrow morning. Granny's. Eight o'clock?"

"Eight o'clock," she replied, nodding. Looking less than satisfied, Regina began walking away, her charcoal grey wool coat catching in the light breeze. Emma pulled her own jacket closer to her body. The last rays of sunlight had long since faded over the tree line - one of the joys of living in Maine - and it was beginning to get cold. Emma sighed and rubbed her temples. She would deal with Regina tomorrow morning. Right now she was going home to take a bubble bath and drink a glass of wine.

The walk back to her and Snow's - and now Charming and Henry's - apartment ordinarily wasn't too long, but with her overwhelming desire to be covered in lavender-scented bubbles, it seemed to be taking an eternity. What she wouldn't give to have her car in working condition right now. She could've been home in five minutes.

Her phone started buzzing in her jacket pocket a couple of blocks away from her destination. "Snow? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Ran into Regina on the way out. No, no, everything's fine. She just wants to meet Henry and me for breakfast in the morning. Milk?" she let out a long sigh. It was starting to look like that bubble bath was never going to happen. "Yeah, I can stop by Granny's to get some on my way back," she turned on her heel and started toward the store, "No, it's not a problem. I might be a while, though. Think I'm gonna grab some coffee while I'm there, maybe talk to Ruby for a bit. I'll see you when I get home." She ended the call and placed the phone back in her pocket, suddenly becoming acutely aware of just how chilly it was getting.

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By the time she made it to Granny's it was pushing seven thirty, close to a full hour after she'd locked the door at the station. She could feel how tired her body was from the stress of the week. She knew if she sat down that she wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, but she did it anyway, unable to remain upright for any longer.

Most of the dinner crowd was still there, chatting away and enjoying each others' company. Ruby bounced over to where Emma was sitting at the bar, chipper as ever. "Hey Emma! You here for dinner? Where's Henry?"

"Nah, I'm just here to grab a cup of coffee and a jug of milk. Snow called me on the way home. Said we needed some."

"Gotcha. So a hamburger, a cup of coffee, and a gallon of milk to go," she replied, busily jotting down the incorrect order on her notepad.

"Ruby, I can't stay. I just wanna get home."

"Nonsense," she quipped, ripping off the sheet of paper and passing it back to the kitchen. "Knowing you, you haven't had a decent meal all day. You're going to sit here and eat something." Ruby was giving her the same accusatory look Snow did when she knew Emma was overworking herself. She rolled her eyes and began taking off her jacket. This was one argument she wasn't going to win.

"Fine. Just bring me some coffee."

"You got it," she beamed back, darting off to get a mug and the requested beverage.

It didn't take long for Emma's food to come out. The burger was cooked well, as always, and Ruby was good company. In between taking orders and delivering food, she'd stop at Emma's seat and ask her questions about what happened in Fairytale Land while her and Snow were gone. She never pushed too far though; it was one of her many gifts.

"Yeah, and so I just kind of socked him and he went down," Emma mused, nibbling on a french fry.

"Emma. You mean to tell me that _the_ Captain Hook was beaten in a _sword_ fight by _you_?" She stared blankly at Emma in disbelief.

"Yeah... that's what I just said. You think I'm making it up? Ask Snow." Ruby's question had bruised her ego. Emma could handle herself. Who was Ruby to say that she couldn't fight as well as Kill- Hook? She'd spent a good portion of her life taking down wanted men, and she did it well. And yet, Ruby's question made her feel uneasy... No, no. Hook had been trying to kill her, but she knocked him out. He hadn't _let_ her win anything.

"Okay, okay. I'm just saying. He's a pirate. He does the sword fighting thing as a day job... You done?" The question snapped Emma back to real time and she looked down at her plate, noticing that there were only crumbs in the spot where her food used to be.

"Yeah, sure. Can I get another cup of coffee before I go?" With a nod, Ruby swept her plate up and walked to get the coffee pot to top her off once more. She came back with a brown sack and began pouring the dark liquid into the mug. "I grabbed you two percent, hope that's okay."

"Yeah, that's fine. How much is it gonna be?" Emma asked as Ruby poured, pulling out her wallet and taking out her credit card.

"Nonsense. It's on the house. "

"Ruby, I-"

"I won't hear it. Just promise me that you'll come back by tomorrow and chat," she waggled her eyebrows. What had gotten into her?

"Yeah, that won't be a problem. Regina wants to have breakfast with Henry and me tomorrow morning," Emma said, faking interest in the prospect of having a sit down breakfast with her son and his step-mother. Ruby scrunched her face. "Tell me about it." They both had a laugh at that.

Emma finished draining the last drops of the caffeinated liquid from her cup and stood up to put her jacket back on. Ruby bustled back over, not about to let Emma leave without saying goodbye. "So I'll see you again tomorrow? You've _got_ to tell me more about this Killian person." Killian? Had Emma called him Killian? His name was Hook...

"Ruby, he's a bad guy. He tried to kill Snow and me," she spoke the words slowly, hoping Ruby'd get the message.

"Right, the most dreaded pirate in all of Fairytale Land lost a sword fight to Emma Swan," she said sarcastically, propping her hand on her hip and raising an eyebrow.

"Ruby, he-"

"See you at breakfast!" Before Emma could come up with a retort Ruby was on the other side of the store attending to one of the dwarves. Sleepy, was it? Emma could never keep them straight in her head. She grumbled at Ruby's misplaced interest in Kill- _Hook_. It was _Hook_ - and sluggishly grabbed the brown paper bag off the counter. It dragged her arm down quickly with the weight of the milk and she had to shift it so that she was cradling it in both hands in front of her. She would deal with Ruby - with everyone - tomorrow. Now she was going home to take that bath.

She pressed her back against the metal bar on the door and walked backwards until she was outside, noticing the time on the clock on the back wall as the it swung shut. _Christ_. How had it gotten to be nine thirty? Had she really been in there for two hours? She took a step in the direction of home, throwing her head back and inhaling the cool night air. The coffee had been a good idea. She could feel her limbs thrumming from the caffeine. Even though Ruby had gotten the entirely wrong idea about Killian, she was good company. _Shit._ Had she just called him Killian again? What was _wrong_ with her? She brought her head back down and faced it forward, focusing on the empty, ill-lit street in front of her.

She pulled out her phone to call Snow and tell her she was walking home, but noticed a text: "Going to sleep now, see you in the morning. Don't forget the milk." She couldn't help but smile to herself. It was as though they really were a family - a mom texting her daughter about grabbing milk on the way home. She tucked the phone back into her pocket and refocused her vision on the street in front of her. That's strange. There was someone walking in front of her now. Had they always been there?

"Hey," Emma projected loud enough for whomever it was to hear her. They didn't turn around. "Hey!" This time a little louder and with more force behind it. They started to speed up. Were they trying to get away from her? "HEY!" They broke off into a run. Emma dropped the milk and took after them, drawing her weapon in the process. It was a bad idea to run from the sheriff - made you look guilty.

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Whoever it was, they were fast. Emma was practically in an all out sprint trying to catch up. They were leading her into an unfamiliar part of town. If she had to guess, she'd say it was the marina, but she couldn't be sure because there was too much damn fog everywhere. If she didn't catch up soon, she'd lose them for good. They turned the corner around a dark blue building, escaping her line of sight momentarily. When Emma followed seconds after, they were nowhere to be seen.

"Shit. Shit shit _shit_." She pushed her fingers through her hair in frustration. Where the hell could they have gone? No sooner had that question run through her mind than did she feel a vice like grip on her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back and forcing her to drop her gun. She tried to pull away, only to then feel the cool press of metal against her exposed throat.

"Chasing after me, love? I didn't figure you for the type." He breathed the words in her ear, pinning her arm more firmly against her back.

"Hook." She knew she should be afraid, but she wasn't. Instead, anger was beginning to simmer beneath the surface. He had tricked her.

"We've a lot to talk about. _Emma_."


	2. Chapter 2

"We've a lot to talk about. _Emma_." He bit the words out venomously, clenching his teeth tightly as he spoke her name. "Shall we?" It was more of a command than a question, and he began forcing her to walk forward, hook still dangerously pressed against her throat.

"Wh-What are you doing here? _How_ did you get to Storybrooke? Is Cora-" Panic was beginning to rise in her voice.

"Easy, love. All in good time." She could practically hear the smirk on his face as he spoke.

Was this a game to him? If Cora was here, her family was in danger. "Hook, please." They were walking on one of the docks now, her boots occasionally sticking in the spaces between the boards and causing her to stumble slightly. The fog made it nearly impossible for her to see anything ahead of her. "I can't let her hurt anyone, I've got to- What the hell is _that_?" As she spoke a large shape began to take form in font of her. She could just barely make out the color of the yellow trimmed railing looming above her head. Was this a _ship_? Why was it so tall?

"Here we are. I'd properly welcome you aboard, but I get the feeling you'd run if I released you." The amusement was thick in his voice. He was definitely enjoying this. "Alright, up you go," he pushed gently on her pinned arm, coaxing her forward onto the plank connecting the ship to the dock.

"Great. Now you commandeering a ship on top of running from the police? Hook, I swear-"

"_Commandeering?_" He let out a husky laugh. "Love, I'm not _commandeering_ anything. Welcome aboard _my_ ship, the Jolly Roger," She could practically feel the pride emanating off him as he spoke the name of his ship. Her eyes grew wide with realization, and then she couldn't help but let out a tiny laugh. It looks like the story books hadn't gotten _everything_ wrong.

Her feet hit the deck unexpectedly. "Oh, forgot to tell you. There's a slight drop," he sarcastically lamented, shoving her forward and releasing her arm.

Emma grasped her now throbbing wrist and glared at him with such intensity that he should have imploded on the spot. "What. Are. You. Doing." She forced out the words, surprised that her tone didn't come across as more hostile. She felt like tearing his head from his shoulders.

"Going sailing," he stated casually, fingering the hooked appendage attached to the end of his left arm. "I thought that was obvious." He was stalking forward slowly, a devilish grin on his face that could only mean he had something planned that she wasn't going to like. Her eyes widened in fear. She had to get off this ship. Her body jerked instinctively, preparing to make a run for it.

"Ah, ah, ah, Emma. Leaving so soon?" They locked eyes, hers pleading silently for him to let her go. He moved swiftly, much faster than Emma would have ever though possible. Before she could react he had her pinned against the mast, the length of his body pressing against hers. His face was only inches above her own, and she had to crane her neck slightly to meet his gaze. His fingers dragged down her arm slowly, stopping at her wrist and gripping it gently. His touch was like fire, and she sucked in a short breath at the contact. Her eyes searched his desperately, trying to discover what he was going to do next, but he gave nothing away.

His scent was intoxicating. It was a mixture between the smell of the sea after a storm and a hardy rum, musky and sharp. She unknowingly began to close the distance between their lips until mere millimeters remained between them. She couldn't help but wonder what he tasted like. Her eyes flicked from his stormy blue orbs to his parted mouth and back again. He shouldn't have this effect on her, but the attraction she felt for him was undeniable. Her pulse was quickening at the thought of being with him, imagining how this pirate would-

The clicking sound of handcuffs being engaged cruelly snapped her thoughts back to the present. "Hook, what the hell? How did you-"

"I only thought it fitting." He dipped his head slightly and shot his eyebrows up, gesturing to the side with his arms. "Hope you don't mind that I borrowed your handcuffs. It's rather difficult to tie a knot with one hand." He dangled the key inches out of her reach, silently boasting that he had been able to swipe it from her without being caught. She futilely lunged for it, only to be halted abruptly by the handcuff cutting into her left wrist. She cursed under her breath.

"Hook, I swear..."

"Yes, well, that's all well and good, but we should get going now." He turned on his heel and started toward the dock with purpose, a lightness in his step and his head held high. He was proud of himself for this.

"Hook! You can't leave me here!" Her anger was beginning to rise again. How could she have been so careless? When had he gotten the handcuffs from her? She was acting like a hormonal teenager, and it was costing her. She needed to get herself under control, fast.

"Leave you? Oh, darling, I'm just going to cast off. You're going to be stuck with me for awhile, I'm afraid."

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He hurriedly untied the ropes that were keeping his ship docked. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought that she'd been about to kiss him. That was insane, though, because the woman was presently closer to wanting to separate his head from his shoulders than she was to wanting to bed him. He pushed the thought aside as he freed the last rope and made his way back over the gangplank, pressing down on the pommel of his sword at his waist. The sight of Emma chained to the mast caused a bemused smile to spread across his face. She looked not at all pleased with her present predicament. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he imagined how she would react to what he planned to say next.

"I do hope you don't get seasick. This'll be an awful long night for you if that's the case," he mused over his shoulder as he made to let down the sails and ready the ship for its journey into open water.

Emma froze. He continued hoisting the sails and preparing the ship for cast off. Normally he had an entire crew to do this part for him, and his muscles were beginning to protest from the sudden exertion. As he tied one final knot he gave Emma a sidelong glance. He could see the gears spinning wildly in her head, searching for any way out of the situation.

"Don't fret, love. I know what I'm doing. I am a _captain_, after all." He grinned, mischievous intentions plastered all over his face. His reassurance was met with a stare so filled with rage that he had to look away. Apparently the lass was pissed.

"What are you playing at, _Hook_?" she questioned after a few more moments, eyes filled with skepticism and her fists balled so tightly that the skin was beginning to turn white.

He smiled darkly. This was going to be interesting. "I told you, love. We've a lot do discuss." And with that they were on their way out of the safety of the harbor.

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Killian was at the helm, the moon illuminating the chiseled features of his face, and the breeze dancing through his dark hair. He looked like he belonged there, as though the ship was simply an extension of his body. She found herself staring at him all too often, and had to remind herself to look away quite frequently. He'd made several attempts to start a conversation as they drifted farther and farther out to sea, but she stubbornly remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of provoking a response out of her.

Suddenly he sprang down from the upper deck, walking briskly to the front of the ship. She heard the sound of metal sliding over wood, the deep thunk of a splash following soon after. Then he was in front of her again, apparently paying no mind to personal space. Her eyes dragged over his form slowly, eventually meeting his own. She made the mistake of breathing in and her senses were assaulted once more by his intoxicating scent; a chill ran down her spine. Her eyes fluttered, but she didn't look away. He slowly bent over her, never breaking eye contact and getting close enough for their breath to mingle. A high pitched click emanated from behind her and a second later the pressure on her wrist was gone. She continued to hold his gaze, finding herself slightly upset when he took several slow steps back.

_Dammit, Emma. He's a pirate. He tried to _kill_ you._

"Now," he started in, Emma's eyes lowering to look at her recently freed wrist, "we need to discuss what to do about Cora." That got her attention. Her eyes snapped back up, cautiously eyeing the man in front of her and trying with every fiber of her being to read him. "I came to this realm with her, but she is not my ally." He spoke the words slowly, taking half a step forward as he finished the sentence. His body language gave no signs of deception, and though she was trying with all her might, she couldn't find any indication that he was lying to her.

She turned around, overcome with fear, anxiety, and confusion. Cora was here, too. Killian wasn't working with her. What did that even _mean_? She shivered, the cold ocean air passing over her body. She tugged her jacket closer to her, her eyes raking frantically across the deck at her feet and her mind racing to find an explanation for Killian's behavior. It didn't make sense that he_ wasn't_ lying to her after everything that happened between them. He had every reason to still be working with Cora. She was the one that had gotten him to Storybrooke, gotten him to the realm where his crocodile lived.

Her train of thought was interrupted as she felt the warmth of Killian's leather coat press down on her shoulders, his hands lingering on her arms for just a second longer than necessary. She spun around at the contact, eyeing him inquisitively. "What the _hell_ are you up to, Hook?"

"You're cold, are you not?" His tone was light. Was that actual concern she detected? "I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you freeze to death out here, now would I?" He looked at her through his eyelashes, his head tipped down and to the side. She took a step backward, narrowing her eyes at this stranger in front of her. He followed. She paced backwards once more, vainly trying to put space between them.

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**I know this is a cruel stopping place, but that's how it has to be for right now, lovelies. Thank (each and every one of) you for reading my little story thus far. I'm honestly still in shock that it's being received so well. Thanks for all the follows and the favorites. It really does mean the whole cosmos to me. I hope I've whetted your appetite well enough that you'll come back for future chapters - I've got some big plans for this dynamic duo ;)**

**Please leave a review if you've got the time. They really do mean so much to me, and I love getting feedback about my writing.**

**Until the next update! **

**- Rachel**


	3. Chapter 3

He was closing the distance between them quickly despite her efforts to back away, which only ended with her back pressed against the mast once more. He took a final half step forward, leaving a paper thin pocket of air between their chests. The moonlight was making it appear as though she was glowing; a thin halo of light surrounded her entire body. Her lips were parted and her golden hair was being tousled by the slight breeze. With each heaving breath her breasts brushed against him, causing his mind to entertain ideas of what she would look like were she stripped of her clothing.

"How did you get here?" Her question forced him to drag his thoughts back to the conversation.

"Yes, well, it turns out that bean wasn't as useless as I thought," he purred the words, noticing the way Emma's gaze dropped to his lips as he spoke. Her eyes snapped back up.

"Why aren't you working with Cora?" Her eyes narrowed into slits as bit out the name of the woman who had nearly kept her from getting back to her son. He had expected this question. She had no reason to trust him after what he'd done. He was surprised that she had yet to push him away, actually.

"Her methods are too... crude," he breathed out, cocking his head to the side as he paused. Emma's eyes tightened even more at this response, apparently unconvinced by his explanation. Still, she didn't press further. It appeared that she had other questions that needed answers.

"Why bring me out here?" Her gaze remained narrowed, though perceptibly softer, as she searched his face, her head turning ever so slightly to the side. She wanted him to give something away, some tell that he was lying. It wouldn't happen, however, since he was being honest with her... for now.

"I told you, love," he picked up a lock of hair on her shoulder and repositioned the curl gently, "I wanted to talk to you. I couldn't risk you running off before I had a chance to explain myself." He feigned interest in placing the strand of hair perfectly back down, refusing to meet her eyes at the moment. He couldn't let her distract him. Getting involved with the Swan girl wasn't a good idea, but he needed her help eliminating Cora. The woman had turned on him after they had made it through the portal. His eyebrows creased in frustration, alerting Emma to his thoughts.

"What's wrong?"

_Shit._ He turned on his heel to hide his reaction, walking away from her and toward the stern of the ship. He had to convince her to help him. This girl had power, he'd seen it when Cora had tried to rip the heart from her chest. The weight of the memory hit him like an anvil. _Every nerve in his body had screamed for him to do something, for him to prevent that _witch_ from killing her. He remained motionless on the sand though, immobilized by the thought that his revenge was so close. Somehow she had survived Cora's attempt, despite his cowardly paralysis. Her magic had protected her._ He shook his head, symbolically ridding himself of the memory for the moment. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his skull, waiting for an answer she knew he wouldn't give.

He turned his head so that his chin was positioned over his shoulder, still refusing to look directly at her. "About Cora. You do have cause for concern." He pivoted back around so he was facing her again and began to stalk back over slowly, his chin jutted out and his eyes downcast. "She doesn't like it when people..." his eyebrows jutted toward his hairline, "get in the way," eyes flicking up to meet hers at the utterance of the last word. She stood motionless, her piercing blue eyes large and her nostrils flaring ever so slightly.

She didn't say anything for several more moments, and he allowed the silence to endure. He needed her to come to this conclusion on her own, otherwise she would never agree. She shifted suddenly, blinking several times and tightening her lips into a straight line. "How do we get rid of her?" The resolve in her voice was tangible. She was committed.

_Now for the hard part, _he thought. "How far are you willing to go?"

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Emma's mind was whirling. Hook had all but said that Cora was coming after her and her family. She had to stop her. At any cost. "Anything," she replied, a note of finality in her response. "I'll do anything."

"Good," he spoke in a low voice, halfway sighing the word. It was almost as though he didn't want to be telling her this. "because you're not going to like it."

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It was still pitch black as she stepped off the gangplank onto the dock again, save for the full moon in the sky. They had to have spent most of the night out at sea. She was half-numb from the realization that Cora was planning to attack her family - the people whom she loved. She _just_ got them back. It wasn't fair.

"I'll contact you when I'm ready." His voice carried over to her as she was walking back toward the road. She simply held her hand up in recognition, not even looking back. She was too distracted by thinking through ways she could take precautions to protect her family. _Contact. _She stopped dead in her tracks, realizing they hadn't discussed a way to contact each other. She spun around quickly enough for her hair to flare out around her. There was nothing there - no pirate ship, no Killian, just a marina filled with average-sized, modern-looking boats. There was no way he could have left already. She crept slowly back over to where his ship was just moments before, every one of her five senses on high alert. She nearly fell backwards when Killian materialized out of what had seemed to be thin air.

"Right, forgot to tell you. Cora spelled the ship before she abandoned me. You can't see it save if you're directly next to it." He glanced up at his ship affectionately, almost as though he was sad that other people couldn't take in its beauty.

She could only manage to stare dumbfounded at him. There was an invisible ship in Storybrooke. That would explain why no one had reported anything yet, though. She blinked rapidly, pulling her wits back about her.

"Like I said, lass. I'll contact you when I'm ready." He disappeared back over the magical barrier that was concealing his ship, leaving her standing alone once more.

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Emma silently opened the door to the apartment, trying to make as little noise as possible. She had taken off her boots in the stairwell, knowing that walking across the hardwood in them had the potential to alert people to her arrival. The clock on the wall caught her eye as she scanned the main room to make sure no one was awake. Three in the morning. She had to be awake for breakfast with Regina in five hours. _Fantastic._

She tip-toed silently to her room and plopped face first onto the soft bed, not even bothering to change into sleeping clothes. Her last thought before she drifted off was of how Mary Margaret would scold her in the morning for not bringing home any milk _Oh well_, she thought, just before the last remnants of consciousness faded away.

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A loud crash from what she assumed to be the kitchen awoke her. Saturday was a sacred day in her books - a day for sleeping late. She rolled unwillingly onto her side, letting out a disgruntled moan as she turned. If only Regina hadn't- _Regina_. Her eyes shot open, pupils shrinking to the size of pinheads as they attempted to filter the right amount of light. They were meeting for breakfast this morning. She stared down the clock on her nightstand as though it had just committed murder, her eyes struggling to focus on the time being displayed. Seven thirty. _Shit._ She'd overslept. She threw the covers off and all but sprinted to the bathroom. No time for a shower. She hurriedly brushed her teeth and slathered on deodorant, reasoning that it would have to do for now. She could take a shower when she got back from breakfast.

She threw the door to her room open and started toward the kitchen. Her red leather jacket was slung over her right shoulder. "Hey kid!" She called over to Henry who was sitting on one of the bar stools at the counter. His eyes were bright and he gave her a warm smile.

"Hey!" He hopped down off the stool and walked over to give her a hug. This was now their routine - he had been greeting her with a hug every morning since her and Mary Margaret had gotten back from Fairytale Land, and many other times during the day, for that matter.

"I see you forgot the milk?" Mary Margret, as predicted, was scolding her, though not unkindly. The beginnings of a smile were creeping up her face at the sight of her grandson embracing his mother.

"Yeah, I, uh, dropped it on the walk back last night. Sorry." She stared at the ground as she continued to keep her arms wrapped around Henry, willing that Mary Margaret not pry any further. What she'd said wasn't untrue; she _had_ dropped it, after all. Bits and pieces of her and Killian's conversation began coming back to her.

_They were sitting on the deck, backs pressed against the railing. Her knees were tucked toward her chest and her hands laid on either side of her hips, palms flat against the wood beneath them. "You have to promise that you'll tell no one. Their lives depend on it." He had spoken the words softly, pleading with his eyes that she listen to him. He'd shifted his hand and it was now resting atop her own lightly. The moonlight was reflecting off his pupils, making the blue in his eyes shine like sapphire, and his dark hair was being pushed around by the breeze, pieces occasionally bushing across his forehead. She had never seen this side of him before. This wasn't the Captain Hook that had dragged her aboard his ship earlier that evening, sharpened metal appendage pressed firmly against her neck. This was a completely different man, one who offered his coat to her when she was cold and who spoke with such gentleness that made her forget all of the bad deeds associated with his name._

"Emma?" Mary Margaret's voice broke the trance. She hadn't even realized that she'd tuned out the conversation. How long had she been thinking about him? Her face felt hot. "Emma, it's ten 'til eight. What time are you meeting Regina?"

"...Regina?" _Crap._ She had forgotten to tell the kid.

"Yeah. Your mo- Regina," she corrected herself - _she_ was his mother, "wants to meet us for breakfast." She smiled at him reassuringly despite the fact that her own stomach wanted to do a backflip. He gave her a wary look. She had to give the kid props. He may have only been eleven, but, man, was he perceptive. She was going to do whatever it took to make sure Cora didn't get a chance to hurt him.

Emma pulled her jacket on and used the backs of her hands to flip her long hair out from underneath the collar where it had gotten trapped. "C'mon. Grab your coat. Let's go get you some hot cocoa." She smiled down and tucked him under her arm, ruffling his hair with her other hand. They strolled out the door with grins on their faces, Henry blissfully unaware that there was a mad woman presently planning how best to kill him and his grandparents.


	4. Chapter 4

"Henry!" Regina's face lit up as she caught sight of her son walking through the door of the diner. Her eyes flicked up to meet Emma's a second later, and the warm greeting she had shown Henry faded into a tolerant grin. Emma dipped her chin and one corner of her mouth ticked upward, acknowledging the woman sitting in the booth in front of them.

Henry bounced over to his step-mom as Emma searched the room for Granny. She caught the woman's eyes and made a gesture to convey that everything was fine. The elderly woman's eyes shifted from her to the mayor and back again. She didn't look convinced, but, then again, Emma couldn't really blame her.

She turned her attention back to the matter at hand: appeasing Regina. The dark haired woman had her forearm comfortably resting on Henry's shoulders; he was now sitting beside her on the reddish-brown cushioned seat. Emma took her place opposite them, and tried her best to put on an agreeable face. She wasn't going to fight with Regina today. Not in front of Henry.

"So... why are we all having breakfast?" Henry was the first to speak, breaking the proverbial ice. There was a long pause between them, neither Regina nor Emma knowing how best to answer. Henry spoke again, saving them all from the awkward silence. "Well, I'm going to go get some hot cocoa." He slid out of the booth, Emma half-begrudging the fact that he left her alone with his step-mom. He was right, though. She and Regina needed to sort things out before they drew him into it.

He cheerfully walked over to the long counter and pulled himself up on one of the stools. Emma watched him intently, pretending to be interested in his every movement. Anything to postpone the conversation she was about to have. Ruby pushed open the door that led to the back room, hands behind her back tying off her red apron. She gave a quick wink to Emma before bouncing over to attend to Henry.

Emma unwillingly drug her gaze back to meet Regina's. "Well," she started, unclasping her hands on the table and turning them over so that her palms were now facing up, "what do you want?"

Regina let out a sigh, dropping her eyes in submission. "My son." The words came out as though they were a prayer. "Emma, I just want my son back."

Emma's initial response was correct her - to say that Henry _wasn't_ her son - but she was caught off guard by Regina's unexpected show of vulnerability. Sympathy for the woman who was the cause of so much pain in her life began to well up inside her. She let out a long sigh, allowing the muscles she had been tensing in preparation for Regina's verbal assault to release. "Okay, I'm listening."

Confusion swept over Regina's expression for half a breath. She composed herself quickly, as though she was afraid that if she didn't make the request immediately that Emma would change her mind. "Let me have him back," her eyes were pleading. "Just for a couple days," she added on a second later, not wanting to press too far.

_"You've cause for concern."_ Killian's warning came crashing back to the forefront of her mind. Henry was in danger. She needed to protect him.

She continued staring back at Regina unemotionally, not betraying the intense fear that was presently consuming her. Though she was screaming internally at the prospect of her son being torn away from her again, she remained outwardly calm. She blinked once when the solution struck her. Though she and Regina fought about most things, they could always agree on Henry, on his safety. "Sure," she said kindly. "You can have him for the rest of the week, actually." She knew he'd be safe with her. Regina would never let anyone harm him.

Regina sat in stunned silence, shock plastered all over her face. "Th-thank you," she managed to stutter out.

"Just don't let anything happen to him," Emma followed. Regina stared back inquisitively, verging on asking what she meant by that, but Emma was already looking over to where Ruby was chatting with Henry. She motioned for him to come back over to join them.

He hopped of the bar stool and grabbed his mug of hot cocoa off the counter. When he got back to the booth where they were sitting he cautiously set the beverage down and eased back into the seat next to his step-mom, eyeing them both suspiciously. "So... you're not fighting. That's good." He took a sip of the warm liquid. "Did you figure out why we're having breakfast together yet?" Another sip.

"How about we get order some food first, kid?" Emma offered, a smile stretching across her face. She had to give it to him, he didn't beat around the bush.

Almost as if Ruby had been listening in, she walked up in front of the table and took her notepad out, pen hovering over the paper expectantly. "Morning!" she piped up brightly, raising and lowering her eyebrows quickly at Emma. She then included everyone else at the table in her gaze. "What can I get you guys for breakfast?"

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Henry took the news well, only protesting once that he didn't want to be away from Emma for that long. She made some excuse about hogging him for the past week and how it was only fair that Regina get her time with him. He listened to what she had to say and perked up soon after, hungrily making his way through the stack of pancakes in front of him.

The conversation stayed centered around him, neither Regina nor Emma willing to discuss their personal lives around one another. Thankfully he had plenty to tell them about a girl in his class he'd become friends with recently, Grace. The name rang a bell, but Emma couldn't quite put her finger on it. Regina, however, stilled when he first mentioned her. She'd have to ask her about that later.

By the end of breakfast Emma was certain he liked the girl as more than just a friend. A small giggle escaped her lips as all three of them were walking through the front door; her son had a crush on someone. Regina turned around to face her, expression unreadable. Emma tensed, preparing for the anger she had been expecting all morning.

"Thank you, Ms. Swan." No anger, no sarcasm, only gratitude.

Her lips softly pinched together, not quite sure how to respond to this foreign version of the woman she'd grown to hate standing in front of her. "Yeah, well, just promise to bring him by the station one day, okay?" Regina nodded, her lips pursing into something that resembled a smile. She turned to look at Henry. "Got everything ya need, kid?" She placed her hand on top of his head ruffled his hair affectionately. He smiled and nodded in response, stepping close to give her one final hug.

She watched him and Regina walk away from her, suppressing the overpowering urge to run after them and take Henry back. The safest place he could be right now was in Regina's care. She would protect him. She had to.

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"Well, we're going to turn in for the night. Got a, um, big day tomorrow." Dav- Charming wasn't doing a good job of masking his excitement at the prospect of taking his wife upstairs for the night. He and Mary Margaret - Snow? - had been putting on this completely unconvincing act every night since Henry had left to stay with Regina. Subtlety was not their strong suit, and it didn't help that Emma was basically a human lie detector. The noises emanating from their bedroom every evening had also been a dead giveaway.

It was now Wednesday, and Emma couldn't take another night of it. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that they were her parents. Knowing that they were... well, it was too much for her right now.

Charming climbed up the steep stairs behind Snow, desire obvious on his features. When Snow made it to the landing she turned and let out a youthful giggle. Emma stood up from her comfortable seat on the couch promptly, grabbing her jacket as she walked briskly out the door. Granny's would still be open, and she needed a drink.

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"For the last time, _Ruby_, I don't like him." Emma slurred the words, the now six glasses of whiskey taking their toll on her composure. It was nearing eleven o'clock and all the other people had long since left for the evening. In fact, Granny's was technically closed for the night; however, Ruby had taken pity on Emma's situation and allowed her to stay after closing, pouring glass after glass of the amber beverage for her.

"Whatever you say, _Emma_." Ruby matched her tone, mocking her slightly, and downed the last bit of alcohol in one swift movement, tipping her head back and roughly slamming the empty glass back down onto the bar. She reached for the bottle and upended it, refilling her cup once more.

Ruby had been all too eager to start up this conversation again when Emma had burst through the door a couple hours ago. She had listened patiently to Emma's initial gripes about her parents making her want to gouge her eyes and ears out, nodding and grimacing when appropriate. Eventually the blonde had grown tired of discussing the 1001 ways her parents were traumatizing her, falling silent and taking great interest in the grey wallpaper with trees that adorned the walls of the diner. It was then that Ruby cleared her throat and refocused the conversation to the mysterious pirate captain. Emma rolled her eyes, but the whiskey had lowered her inhibitions. A small grin played at the corners of her mouth against her will, and Ruby lunged at the show of emotion. "You _do_ like him! I knew it!" She slapped both palms down on the bar triumphantly.

Emma pushed out a sharp breath of air and pinched her left eye shut, "_Pfffft_, I do not. It's just that... that..." Emma had never finished her sentence, instead opting to take another swig of the liquid in front of her.

Ruby smirked knowingly and joined her in a drink, reluctantly breaking the contact between her lips and the glass after several seconds. "So tell me about this sword fight again."

Emma had recounted the story once more, Ruby frequently interrupting her and demanding more details. She eventually made it to the end, only to be teased again by Ruby about her buried affections for the man.

"For the last time, _Ruby_, I don't like him."

"Whatever you say, _Emma_."

She closed her eyes, willing herself to be sober. "I'm gonna go now," she let out in a high-pitched voice, hopping off the stool and almost losing her balance at the unexpected landing. She reached out for the bar to steady herself, straightening her posture and bending her neck to either side. Wrapping her fingers around the glass once more, she brought it to her lips to finish off the final pool of liquid that remained. She sucked her cheeks in, savoring the last sip before she swallowed. The whiskey no longer burned on its way down, she noticed.

Ruby followed her to the door, grin never leaving her face. Emma turned around to bid her a goodnight, but clamped her mouth shut again when she saw the way Ruby was eyeing her. "...I'll see you later, Ruby," she managed after another second, voice monotone and eyes narrowed slightly.

"Later, Emma!" She chirped the words out, ignoring Emma's tone. A brilliant smile was etched across her face as she locked the door behind her, enthusiastically waving from the other side of the window when Emma looked over her shoulder.

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Emma stared down at her boots as she made her way home, trying to carefully place one in front of the other without deviating from the imaginary line she was pretending to walk. She had drunk more whiskey than she'd intended, and she was actively battling the numbing effects of it now. It was cold outside, she knew, but she didn't feel it. And when she wasn't paying close attention to the placement of her feet, she stumbled. Her mind wandered, dredging up memories of the other night when she was aboard Killian's ship. She tripped over the curb and nearly fell forward, cursing under her breath at the dull throb that could now be felt in her toe. She placed her hands on her knees and took a deep breath to calm herself, focusing fully on planting her feet firmly beneath her.

There was a hollow spot in the air behind her, a place she could hear that the wind was being stopped by something - or some_one_. Every muscle in her body sprang to alert as she whirled around, fists clenched, ready to fight off whoever was following her. She stopped her movement mid-lunge when she registered who it was.

"Easy, love. It's only me." His arms were up in surrender, trademark smirk plastered across his face.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Her tone was biting. Had he followed her all this way? The nerve...

"I could ask you the same thing." His eyebrows knitted together as he spoke, almost as though he was amused.

Her eyes took in her surroundings for the first time since she'd left Granny's. Through the thin layer of fog that covered everything around her, she was able to discern the outlines of ships, hear the lap of the water against the seawall._ Ohhh, dammit._ She had walked to the marina. "Go away." She rolled her eyes as the words came out, toneless loathing thick in her voice. She spun back around on her heel quickly, the abruptness of the movement causing her to lose her balance. She landed on her right hand, knee tapping the ground slightly and sending a twinge of pain up through her leg. She felt his hands on her waist, helping pull her back to standing. "Don't touch me," she lashed her arm out against him, embarrassed by how the liquor was making her behave. He caught it, holding her forearm gently between his fingers.

"C'mon, love." His tone was pleading. "You're in no shape walk home right now. Besides, you've got a nasty scrape on your hand." He nodded toward the hand she'd just caught herself with. Blood was beginning to stain the skin, though she couldn't feel any pain.

She stared blankly at him, finally sighing in defeat. He was right. She was too drunk to make it the rest of the way home. Not to mention the fact that now both her foot and her hand had sustained some form of injury. "Okay, fine," she spat the words out, the effects of the whiskey taking over again, "but just until I'm sober enough to walk back home."

"I promise to be a perfect gentleman." He winked. She sneered in response, but allowed him to lead her forward.


	5. Chapter 5

Killian led her aboard the ship slowly, his hand protectively hovering centimeters away from her waist as she walked over the gangplank. Emma stumbled onto the deck, tipping forward slightly but not entirely losing her balance. She whirled around to face him again, but her whiskey laden vision was making it difficult to focus on his dark features. Almost as though he had sensed her trouble, he stepped forward, coming into focus. His arms were crossed over his chest loosely and his face held and accusatory grin.

"Now what's got you drunker than a sailor on port leave?" He half chuckled the words, clearly amused at Emma's present state.

"Whiskey. Works wonders," she shot the words back, head wobbling sarcastically and eyes narrowing.

"Not what I meant, love." His eyebrow raised, and he took a step closer, arms still noncommittally crossed over his ribcage.

She released a heavy breath, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Turns out my mom's a screamer." She stared blankly at him, waiting for the moment when recognition dawned on his face. After a few seconds of confusion his eyes grew large and a bark of laughter flew out of his mouth. He regained his composure immediately, though, once he saw the look she was giving him, clearing his throat and shooting his eyes to the deck to avoid her cold gaze. She waited impatiently for whatever lewd comment he was about to make, fully prepared to storm right back off the ship.

He untangled his arms and, with his hand, motioned toward the stern of the ship, "Let's get that hand taken care of." His lips pursed slightly as he waited for her to respond. She hadn't been expecting that. He was supposed to make snide remarks - it was who he was. She took a cautious step forward, refusing to remove her eyes from him as though he were a dangerous predator.

"Where to, _Captain_?" The title was dripping with sarcastic indifference. He stepped behind her, momentarily leaving her field of vision. When he returned on the opposite side, his face was inches away from her own and his hand was radiating heat on the small of her back, despite the thickness of the leather coat she was wearing. His musky scent assaulted her senses and she felt lightheaded, leaning into him ever so slightly.

He pushed forward gently. "After you, m'lady."

She clumsily made her way through the cramped hallway, half because she couldn't see where see was going and half because she was still thoroughly intoxicated. The pressure from his hand suddenly disappeared and she heard the sound of a lock clicking. As she turned around she was greeted with the sight of Killian smirking, his back pressed against a door frame and his chin tucked down and to the side to indicate that she was to enter. She eyed him suspiciously but obliged, walking over the threshold with her head tilted up and to the left, eyes sweeping over her new surroundings.

The dark wood of the walls was illuminated by half a dozen candles that were placed strategically throughout the room. The dancing flames were causing shadows to form and disappear rapidly, making the furniture appear as though it were alive. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the oversized bed in the corner. Though pieces of the wood frame had chipped off, the intricate carving details could still be seen. Thin rays of moonlight poured in from the window on the wall, revealing the soft dimples in the cushioned pallet. A dark blue comforter was strewn across it lazily, and cream colored sheets peeked out at random places._ I wonder how many women he's- Stop it, Emma._ She snapped her neck to the side, struggling to regain control of her thoughts. _Focus on something else, anything else._ There was a table off to the left, a single candle set in the center. It was burning so low that the melted wax was fighting to extinguish the weak flame once and for all. From the glow that it was giving off, though, she could make out pictures of maps and pieces of paper with words scrawled on them in illegible handwriting. One drawing in particular caught her eye; it was of a crudely shaped knife, blade curving up and down like a wave - and there was something written across the length of it...

Killian rearranged the papers and pushed them off to the side as she was squinting to make out the word, pulling back one of the chairs in invitation once he had cleared off a space on the table. As she took her seat he strode over to the large dresser on the opposite wall, pulling open the top drawer and removing a wooden box. He closed the distance back to the table in three paces, setting the container down on the bare space and pulling a chair of his own over to him. Once opened, Emma saw that the box contained numerous vials and torn lengths of cloth - the makings of a medical kit.

Killian rested his left elbow on his knee, turning his forearm inward and offering the hook as a sling for Emma's wrist. She understood the action and placed her injured hand in the cradle of the cold metal. Using his mouth and good hand he worked smoothly to uncork the necessary vials, spilling their healing liquids onto the strips of linen. He gently began to dab at the edges of the scrape, occasionally using his middle and forefinger to remove a piece of dirt.

Emma's eyes caught sight of the red ink on the inside of his arm. Before she could stop herself, "Tell me about her, the woman on your arm." She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. It was none of her business. She shyly drew her neck inwards, physically retreating from the question.

"Not much to tell, really." His eyebrows shot toward his hairline, eyes never straying from the task in front of him. "She's dead." His tone turned dark; she could see the muscles on either side of his jaw clenching rapidly. "And what about you, Swan? You were quite keen on getting back to your son in this realm, but you never made any mention of his father. Tell me, who was it that damaged you so completely?" He roughly shoved the alcohol soaked cloth onto the scrape, causing Emma to draw in a sharp breath between clenched teeth.

She thought briefly about lying, about telling him the same made-up story she'd told to Henry. "Neal. His name was Neal." She turned her eyes down and allowed her vision to blur, not blinking as the painful memories washed over her. The alcohol helped dull the pain, but it felt as though her heart had just been broken all over again. "The car I have now... I stole it from him while he was in the backseat, but he'd stolen it from someone else. That's how we bonded, I guess." The words were spilling out of her mouth quickly now. It was like a flood gate had been opened. She'd kept all of this buried for years, never telling anyone about him, but now that she'd started it was impossible to stop. "...and then the cop showed up. Of course I'd kept the stupid watch on... Anyway, I didn't find out until I was already in jail that I was- that I was pregnant. I couldn't... I gave him up once he was born."

They both sat in silence, the only sound the creaking of the ship as it gently rocked back and forth at the dock. She hadn't noticed that Killian had finished bandaging her scrape, his thumb now tracing delicate circles over the soft flesh of her wrist. She pulled her hand back when she realized, blinking rapidly as she mentally reconstructed her protective walls. Already she was trying to forget that she had just bared her soul to him, trying to come up with excuses for doing it. She was thankful that he wasn't saying anything, hadn't interrupted her; she didn't think she could handle it if he teased her right now.

She gulped back the emotion that was trying to escape, burying it within herself once more. "Thanks." The word was little more than a whisper, cutting the silence between them as she made to stand. Killian nodded almost imperceptibly, but continued to stare at her as though she were a precious jewel that had just been shattered. A sharp cry escaped her mouth when she put weight on the foot with which she'd kicked the curb earlier. The unexpected shot of pain caused her to crash to the ground, painfully clutching at the air around the boot, afraid to touch it, lest it intensify the discomfort. She saw him move out of the corner of her eye.

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Killian wordlessly slid off the chair, sinking down onto one knee until he was beside her. He scooped one arm under her legs and curved the other around her back, lifting up until she was hovering off the ground. The muscles in his legs engaged and he pushed himself to standing, Emma's arms now wrapped around his neck for safety. He didn't meet her questioning gaze, keeping his eyes transfixed the wall in front of him.

The man she loved had betrayed her. As Emma had recounted their story, he could see the walls she had worked so hard to build come tumbling down. For the first time since they met, he was seeing her for who she really was. Her actions atop the beanstalk were beginning to make sense now; they were those of a person whose trust had cost them dearly. He got the feeling that she didn't let most people hear that tale, let people see her in such a broken state. He presumed that she hadn't really intended for him to see that side of her, either, but he had.

"Milah," he said solemnly, half-blinking as he shifted his gaze down to meet hers. He set her down on the bed softly, face coming close enough to hers that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

Her eyebrows pinched together for half a second. "What?"

He drew back away from her and moved to the end of the bed. "You asked after the ink on my arm." He gingerly began sliding the black leather boot off the foot she was favoring. "Her name was Milah." She winced in pain as the lip of the boot passed over her toes, revealing the source of her pain. The grey sock she wore was stained red. He carefully began to peel it back, taking special care as he got to the end of her foot. "She left him for me- Rumplestiltskin," he stated resolutely, planting his feet back on the floor and straightening his legs. He walked back to the table to pick up a container of translucent amber liquid and several more sheets of cloth. "She made a wonderful pirate; the men respected her." He sat back down, lifting up her calf so that the heel of the injured foot was resting in his lap. He began his work disinfecting the wound, recanting one of the adventures he and Milah had shared. His tone grew dangerously level as he neared the end of the story. "She told him that she never truly loved him, and for that he ripped out her heart. He crushed it before I even had the chance to say goodbye." His hand was draped over her ankle, fingers slowly moving up and down the soft skin. "He showed no remorse. His own wife..." He blinked back to the present, turning his chin so that his eyes now met Emma's. "Then the beast took my hand," he growled out, holding up his hook as proof. He let it drop back down on the feathered pallet seconds later, a muffled thud accompanying the action.

She said nothing, her eyes cooly taking in his features before reaching her arm over the side of the bed for her boot. He held out his hand in protest, scooting out from underneath her leg and moving to stand upright. "You're not getting anywhere on that foot. Not tonight, anyway. You can sleep here." It was more a command than a suggestion, his tone brokering no argument. He paced backward several steps before turning around and striding the rest of the way to the door, grabbing the brass knob as he stepped through. It closed with a familiar click, and he allowed his head to drop back on the worn wood. _What the _hell_ are you doing, Killian?_


	6. Chapter 6

He cursed under his breath as he paced the length of the hallway, making his way toward the galley in search of a fresh bottle of rum. Why hadn't he just let her leave? She would have made it home fine... probably. He suppressed what he recognized as concern for her welfare by reasoning that he needed her alive and well in order to eliminate Cora - the one obstacle standing in the way of his revenge.

_The salty sea air washed over their faces. They had made it through the portal to the land where his Crocodile was hiding. Three hundred years... at last. "You can't kill him yet, Hook." He stared at her in disbelief; surely she was jesting. "I need him alive. If you move against him, I'll be forced to... intervene." She smiled through closed lips, the gesture laced with venom. Rage took root inside him. This _witch_ would not keep him from his revenge. _

_He maintained a mask of disinterest, mumbling something about how he would wait until she was through with the man. Internally, the gears had already started spinning. Cora had double-crossed him for the last time. She wouldn't survive the consequences of her betrayal. _

The thought caused his hand to subconsciously travel to his coat pocket and finger the glass vial within. It had nearly cost the lives of him and his entire crew to obtain the black liquid. Without the help of that insufferable little mermaid, they never would have completed the task.

A wall of alcohol and cured meats faced him. He settled on the bottle directly in front of him and closed his fingers around the neck, dragging it off the shelf lazily. He brought the cork to his mouth and clamped his teeth down on it firmly. As he jerked his head back he was rewarded with a delicious sounding pop. He stretched his neck to the side and dropped the stopper on the floor, gulping down a mouthful of rum afterward.

Several drinks later, he was still searching for an explanation for why he told Emma about Milah. She didn't need to know that part of his past to be of service - no one did; he wouldn't lie that he enjoyed her company. She possessed a certain vigor; it always kept him on his toes. But she was a pawn - nothing more, and yet... He upended the bottle again, letting the liquid fire pour down his gullet.

_"I love you." Paralyzed, he stared disbelievingly into her eyes, knowing full well that these were their last moments together but unable to make his mind accept it. He searched for the words - some way to communicate to her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her - but they never came. The light in her eyes dimmed as the ashes of her crushed heart were scattered on the wind. The scaly skin of his face gleamed in the sunlight as he stepped forward, demanding the magical bean. He was never going to get what he came here for; Killian didn't care what it would cost him._

The bottle shattered into hundreds of pieces as it collided with the knotted wall. His hand flew to his temple, the heel of his palm trying to physically force away the emotional devastation he was feeling anew. He squeezed his eyes shut and ground his jaw together hard enough that he felt pain. Moisture began to pool on the inner rims of his of his eyelids, and he dropped to his knee, the weight of the memory becoming too much to bear.

An undignified sob escaped his mouth and he collapsed the rest of the way to the floor, back now pressed against the rum-soaked wall. He could feel shards of glass stabbing his thighs through his leather pants, but he didn't care. Pain was all he had left now. And revenge.

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The door closed softly, Emma staring with glazed over eyes at the spot where Killian had just stood. Her mind was having trouble processing all of what she'd just heard. She had the distinct feeling that she was one of a handful of people to whom he had revealed that bit of his past.

Though she was nowhere near complete comprehension, she was beginning to understand his motives, his need for vengeance. He spoke of Milah as though he'd known her in a different life, and perhaps he had. She'd caught flashes of the man he used to be - the self-important pirate who loved fiercely and held loyalty above all other virtues - a man whose soul had yet to be shattered by lost love.

She loosely balled her hands, careful to not let her fingertips dig into the freshly bandaged scrape, and used her knuckles to push herself up off the mattress, sitting forward to appraise the damage to her foot for the first time. She'd been so absorbed in Killian's story that she hadn't bothered to pay attention to what he was doing. It had occasionally stung, but not enough to distract her from the words coming out of his mouth.

She lightly pinched the cloth with her middle and index finger, pulling it back gradually to reveal the source of her discomfort. Most of her largest toenail was missing; the portion that remained attached was already purple, indicating that it would fall off within the next several days. A groan passed through her entire body. Now that the effects of the alcohol were beginning to wear off, the pain in her toe was intensifying.

Her other boot was still on. She slung her left calf over her right knee and inched the relaxed leather off, letting it drop softly on the floor below. She shrugged off her jacked and used her good foot to edge down the comforter so that she could wiggle everything but her bloodied toe underneath. As she rolled her head from side to side on the down pillow in an attempt to get comfortable she could feel her mind sloshing behind her eyes. God, she was going to have a killer headache in the morning.

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The faint rustle of cloth being pushed around reached her ears; then, wood sliding against wood. Her eyelashes fluttered open, vision straining to focus on the unfamiliar backdrop. The faint rays of sunlight streaming in through the lone window were making her head throb, the after-effects of a night of heavy drinking already beginning to set in.

She pushed a hand to her forehead and set her fingers to work massaging her brow bone. Her eyes finally adjusted to the harsh light just as Killian was threading his arm through the sleeve of a black shirt. She dragged her eyes up the tanned skin of his back, the well-formed muscles visibly flexing underneath. The first things she noticed were the leather straps criss-crossing between his shoulder blades. At first she thought they were part of a gun holster, but then her gaze followed the connecting pieces over his rounded bicep and bent elbow. A leather brace encased nearly the entirety of his forearm, joining with the metal cap on the end of his wrist.

The loose-fitting cotton dropped over his form, disguising the elaborate prosthetic once more. "Like what you see, love?" The hook locked into place as he turned himself around to face her. How had he known that she'd been staring?

Her mouth opened and closed several times; she'd been caught entirely off-guard by his question. "Cora. Are you ready yet?" Her query seemed to have a similar effect on him.

He thumbed the sharpened point of his namesake, stalling for time before he answered. "Another day. Two, at most." He lolled his head to the side and gestured dispassionately at the air in front of him.

She was making a concerted effort to pull her boot back on without disturbing the injury to her toe, not even bothering with the blood-stained sock. Her feet gently touched down on the floor, and she inhaled deeply, bracing herself for the discomfort she was about to feel as she shifted her weight onto her heels and straightened her knees to standing.

She took one cautious step forward, and then another, testing to see just how much pressure her injured foot could bear before it became overwhelming. She found that if she put most of the weight on her heel that it was relatively painless. The only discomfort came from when the raw skin underneath the broken-off toe nail pushed against the top of her boot. Whenever that happened it caused her to breathe in sharply.

Killian escorted her off the ship, following behind her at a respectful distance for once. The sun had almost finished rising, a soft pink hue coloring the clouds on the horizon. She made her way back toward the road, the pain in both her head and her toe growing with each labored stride.

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She'd been walking for the better part of a half hour. It was slow-going because she had to carefully place her foot down for each step, but she was making progress.

"_AUGH!_" She yanked her foot off the ground, hopping on her right leg to maintain her balance. Hobbling over to the wall of a storefront, she pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found the name she was looking for, pressing the dial key and moving the device to her ear.

"Ruby, sorry to wake you. I need a favor."

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She'd made it the two more blocks to the police station after she hung up. Ruby had kindly agreed to come get her. In fact, she'd seemed a little excited. Emma should never have mentioned that she needed her to not tell anyone...

Her familiar red firebird pulled up about five minutes later. Emma stood up and paced over, the door creaking slightly as she pulled it open. She plopped down in the seat and pushed the back of her skull into the leather headrest.

"What happened to you? You look like hell." Her tone was a mixture of concern and amusement.

Emma rolled her head so that her eyes locked onto Ruby's. "The sidewalk was particularly hard last night." She squeezed her lips together so they formed a muted smile.

"So you're telling me you slept at the police station?" One eyebrow raised in questioning as she rocked forward on the seat toward the steering wheel.

"Yep." She nodded her head methodically, staring at the street in front of her and trying to silently will her into driving forward.

Ruby tucked her chin deeply and gave her an accusatory glare, making it painfully obvious that she wasn't buying the story.

Emma resigned to the fact that she was going to have to tell Ruby the truth. She'd accept nothing less, and if she didn't hear it from Emma, she'd start asking other people to fill in the blanks. "Promise you won't say anything to anyone?" She nodded her head vigorously, looking as though she was nearly going to burst at the seams from anticipation. "Okay, fine. I- I stayed with Hook last night."

"_What!?_ You said he- Emma, are you-" She stammered out the pieces of fragmented thoughts.

Emma interrupted her calmly, "I need a room at the inn." Then, more seriously, "Can you promise that you won't tell anyone about this?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, but-" Her hands were grasping at the air wildly now, and her stare was bouncing from left to right so rapidly that it looked like her pupils were vibrating.

"And if anyone asks, can you say that I stayed with you last night?" She knew that Mary Margaret would be waking up about now, preparing breakfast and getting ready to head to the school. She needed an alibi - a believable explanation for why she didn't come back home last night.

"Sure, but-"

"Get me some coffee, and I'll tell you everything." She let out a heavy sigh. Already her mind was beginning to sift through what information she should tell Ruby, what would be _safe_ to tell Ruby.

Ruby stared back at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. She moved the gear shift into first and slowly began to release the clutch, only dragging her questioning gaze off Emma after they started to roll forward.


	7. Chapter 7

Emma filled Ruby in on what had happened the previous night between sips of much needed coffee. She left out the fact that Cora had made it to Storybrooke along with Killian, and she was grateful that Ruby was still in such a state of shock that she didn't think to ask about the woman; but Emma knew that once Ruby collected herself she would put the pieces together. It was only a matter of time before she realized what was really going on.

After Emma was satisfied that Ruby's curiosity was sated, she made some excuse about needing a shower, gently hinting that Ruby needed to leave. She took the cue, closing the door to the room quietly on her way out.

Emma pulled out her phone. She still needed to tell Mary Margaret her made up story about staying with Ruby last night. Just as she was about to press the dial button she reconsidered. A text would suffice for now. She quickly typed something up, making sure to include details about the copious amounts of whiskey she imbibed. She hesitated for a moment, fingers hovering above the keypad awaiting orders of what to press next. "Call me when you get done today," was finally punched out, and she sent the message moments later.

It felt wrong to tell her over text that she was going to be staying at the inn indefinitely because her sanity couldn't take another night of hearing her parents go at it. Plus, it gave her eight hours to collect her thoughts; come up with a way to break the news to Mary Margaret as gently as possible.

She began making her way over to the bathroom, stripping of her clothing as she walked. The tile was cold on her bare feet, feeling especially good on the bottom of her injured toe. She gripped the controls for the faucet, adjusting the temperature until it was appropriately hot. She made the mistake of allowing the raw wound on her foot to get caught in the stream of water. Something like a curse word flew from her mouth as she jerked her foot back instinctively. She reached up and pushed the shower head away so that it was spraying on the wall and stepped in once more, this time carefully positioning her foot so that it wouldn't get doused in the scalding liquid.

The strong water pressure felt good on her back as she stood facing away from the shower head, foot propped on the wall of the tub so that her toe was out of the path of the cascading water. She rolled her head from side to side, using her uninjured hand to smooth the shampoo out of her hair and lightly push down on the sore muscles in her neck.

_What the hell were you thinking, Emma?_ The question had been racing through her mind ever since she'd woken up in Killian's bed that morning. _You agreed to help him get rid of Cora. Bearing your soul was not included in the deal._ She repeatedly chastised herself, blaming the whiskey for her severe lapse in judgement. A part of her refused to accept that explanation though, periodically piping up, _You went to him, remember?_ And she hated herself for that. But she hated herself even more for not really hating what happened as a result. _Maybe Ruby was right. Maybe you do feel som- NO._

She pushed the knob back in, halting the flow of water over her body. Beaded droplets continued to drip from her nose and fingers, her wet hair sending a fluid stream of them down her back. She gripped the shaggy towel draped over the bar just outside the shower and wrapped it around herself securely.

Steam still hung in the air, floating to the ground slowly. The mirror above the sink had a layer of foggy moisture covering it, obscuring Emma's reflection. She swiped her hand across it, starting herself in the eyes once her face was made visible. _What were you thinking, Emma?_ She continued to gaze at the woman in front of her, willing her to provide an answer that didn't imply she had some sort of feelings for the man.

Frustrated with herself, she stormed back into the main room, throwing herself onto the bed angrily. She sat up after several moments, scanning the room for her discarded clothing. Her eyes stopped on a yellow piece of paper at the end of the bed.

"Came in while you were showering. Your clothes are currently enjoying a very thorough spin cycle. - Ruby"

She allowed herself to fall backwards onto the mattress once more, staring up at the ceiling with the hope that it would provide her with answers. Her eyes were just starting to drift closed when a knock at the door brought her back to consciousness.

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The final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place after Emma had left that morning. Cora had revealed her location. She was hiding in the woods just outside of town, apparently keeping close watch on her daughter's residence.

He changed into a set of clothing he'd swiped from one of the shops in town. Walking around Storybrooke while clad in all leather was a recipe for disaster, so instead he opted for a relaxed blue and green flannel button-up shirt and something called jeans. Satisfied that he was dressed plainly enough, he set off to inform Emma of the recent development, noticing how his spirits perked up at the prospect of being in her company once more.

He hugged the lines of the buildings, making sure to stay out of sight as best he could. The coat he'd taken had deep pockets, allowing for an easy way to conceal his hook. He walked briskly, hoping that she'd gone where he'd suspected. Given the fact that her parents had driven her to down the better part of a bottle of whiskey, he wagered that she wouldn't be returning home.

A silent prayer passed through his mind as he swung open the door to the building he'd been searching for. He scanned the front room. It appeared as though no one was working. He'd just placed his foot down on the first stair when a bubbly voice accosted him from behind.

"Can I help you with something?" He turned around to see a young woman with red lipstick dark brown hair smiling back at him sharply.

He cleared his throat and paced over to the desk she was standing behind. "Yes, actually. I'm looking for Emma Swan." He smiled brilliantly at her, filling the expression with as much charm as he could muster.

"And who are you?" Her arms crossed over her chest, and she shifted her weight so that one hip stuck out.

He paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer. Then, "Neal. I'm someone from Emma's past. Please, I've come all this way." The smile he shot her was less genuine this time. She was beginning to annoy him.

She stared back at him with a slotted gaze, appraising the truth of his reply. Then her eyes widened and she breathed in through a half-smile, clamping her mouth shut quickly as though she were trying to mask her reaction. "No you're not." Her arms uncrossed, palms now supporting her weight as she leaned over the wooden table. "But she's in room two." With a wink, she spun back around, walking out of sight.

He shook his head in confusion as he trudged up the stairs. _What an odd lass, _he thought as he reached the designated room. He brought his knuckle up to eye level and rapped on the door softly. A few seconds later he was locking eyes with Emma, her face poking through the narrow crack in the door she'd just barely opened.

Recognition of who was standing in front of her seemed to catch her by surprise, and she flung the door the rest of the way open, shooting her arm into the hallway to grab him by the lapel of his jacket. She tugged forward firmly, and he stumbled into the room, walking past her as she anxiously closed the door and checked outside to make sure no one else was out there.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Her tone was exasperated, and she barked the words out in little more than a whisper. He hadn't noticed what she was wearing - or, rather, not wearing - moments before. Now that she was standing opposite him with her back was pressed against the door he got a full view of her attire. Her wet hair snaked over her shoulders and moisture still clung to her limbs. He could see the gentle curves of her body through the fabric of the towel, and his eyes lingered a second too long on the center of her chest where the material was tucked into itself. Her cheeks flushed and her arms shot up, grasping at the hem of the towel in an attempt to better cover herself. _Pity._ "_Hook._ What are you doing here? Did anyone see you?"

"I'm offended, love. You think me incapable of stealth?" He feigned hurt, throwing his hand over his heart in a mock gesture. Her lips straightened into a line, irritation showing in her features. "Maybe I'm here because I enjoy your company." He took slow steps forward, stopping half a foot short of her toes.

She leaned her neck forward, chin tilted up defiantly. "Bullshit." She skirted to the side, walking past him toward the opposite wall of the room.

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The last thing she had been expecting was to see _him_ outside her door. Panic flooded her senses when she processed who he was - _where_ he was. She'd grabbed him without thinking. If anyone saw him here...

She'd forgotten what she was wearing until she'd caught him staring at her nearly exposed chest. She made a mental note to kill Ruby when she finally returned with her clothes. _Clothes._ He wasn't wearing leather. Her eyes took in his new form, causing a warmth to grow in the pit of her abdomen. The flush in her face was beginning to spread to other parts of her body. She began to envision unbuttoning the fabric covering his chest, slipping it over his shoulders- _Stop it, Emma!_

"Bullshit." She tucked herself around him, dipping her elbow to avoid brushing her heated skin up against him. She stared at the empty wall in front of her, waiting for him to give her a straight answer - if he was even capable of doing such a thing.

"I came to tell you that I'm ready to move against Cora." She turned back around slowly, her head leading the movement. She knew that she'd promised to help him, but now that the time had come to actually act she wasn't sure that she could.

"Hook, I don't know if I-" Fear and doubt were overtaking her mind. What if they failed? What if this only strengthened Cora's resolve to hurt her family?

He closed the distance between them. She paced backwards in a feeble attempt to keep him away, but was eventually halted by the wall behind her. He, however, continued forward, only stopping once their faces were inches apart. She had to tilt her chin up slightly so that she could look him in the eyes properly. The familiar scent of him found her, the heady aroma making her eyes flutter. "Emma, you're the only one who can do this." The words came out in a hushed tone.

The monster of doubt had begun to grow inside of her. Her mind was reeling at a maddening pace, trying to think of alternatives to confronting Cora. "No, I can't! I got lucky last time! She-"

He slammed his palm into the wall beside her head, making her jump. "Dammit, Swan! I need y-" He took a breath to steady himself, squeezing his eyes shut tightly before meeting her gaze again. "I need your help on this. I can't take her alone, and no one else in this godforsaken town..." He stared off to the side, bringing his jaw toward his shoulder. His eyes were the first thing to raise back up, meeting hers as he slowly squared his face. His tone was softer, pleading, "It has to be you... Emma, I need _you_."

"Killian..." she whispered back, her hands subconsciously finding themselves on his chest. He'd moved his hips so they were now pressed against hers, and she could feel her blood pulsing through her veins, waking parts of her that had lain dormant for years. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and all she could think about was how perfect his body felt against hers.

His hand dropped down to her shoulder, resting lightly on the bare skin. Her breath hitched; his touch was like fire. He brought his head down so that his lips were hovering above her own, waiting for her to either push him away or give in. Her eyes flicked from his parted mouth to his ice blue eyes and back, silently giving her consent. His teeth ghosted over his bottom lip; he was half a breath away-

A sharp knock at the door halted his head. Emma blinked twice, pulling back from him as much as the wall would allow. His eyes searched her face and his head ticked to the side faintly, begging her not to pull away.

She slipped out of his touch, every part of her protesting the action. She heard him sigh heavily behind her. Taking a cleansing breath, she walked toward the door. Ruby had finally brought her clothes back, and just in time.

She turned the knob and pulled, "Thanks for washing them, Ruby, but-" Her hands fell to her sides in shock. Her mouth hung open slightly as she stared at the person in front of her. He brushed past her, striding into the room like he owned it.

"Wasn't aware you were expecting company, love." A smile was on his face, but his tone was warning. He'd shoved both arms back into his pockets, effectively concealing the unorthodox appendage.

"Killian, you need to go." Her eyes stayed transfixed on the intruder. Eleven years. Eleven years he'd left her alone. Why now?

He took his hand out of his pocket, shifting his weight and gesturing at the man who'd just interrupted them. "Wait, is this-"

"Leave, _Hook_." She continued to stare at Neal, who had yet to say a single word. He merely met her gaze, eyes unflinching.

Killian marched past her, slamming the door violently upon his exit.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here, Neal?"


	8. Chapter 8

The door rattled shut behind him, the wood shaking at it took the stress of colliding with the frame. He felt like punching something, his mind at war with itself. _What in the bloody _hell_ was that? _He couldn't let his... feelings - he sneered at the realization - for this girl cloud his judgement. He _would_ kill Rumplestiltskin. He owed it to Milah, to her memory. And neither Cora nor Emma were going to get in his way.

He stamped down the stairs, catching sight of the woman he'd seen on his way in when he reached the bottom. She was reclining back in a chair, feet crossed on the edge of the table, and she appeared to be reading something. He strode over to her, forcefully pressing his palm into the desk. Her eyes dragged up to meet his as she rolled her head to the side, a small smirk stretching across her face.

He jerked his other arm from the coat pocket, gesturing at the stairwell. "Who the hell was _that_?"

She uncrossed her ankles and leaned forward on the seat, coming to rest her forearms on the desk. Her stare casually flicked from his eyes to the now exposed hook and back. "_Actually_ Neal," she leveled.

His face contorted as his suspicions were confirmed. That smug-faced _bastard_ was the one responsible for so much pain in Emma's life - the reason she'd put up so many walls around her. _I'm gonna bloody kill him._ His expression morphed into one of acceptance as he wordlessly nodded at the air in front of him, the corners of his mouth dipping down fractionally.

"No, Killian." Her eyebrows were raised up at him, lips pursed accusingly. Had he said that out loud? Wait, had she just used his name? He turned his head, eyes narrowing at her suspiciously, further assessing her stoic gaze. Her lack of fear despite knowing who he was unnerved him. He used his tongue to create a vacuum with the top of his mouth, drawing it back with a _tsk_ and whirling around toward the exit. As he wrenched the door open, his face was blasted with the cool Maine air.

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"What the _hell_ are you doing here, Neal?" She had finally managed to collect herself enough to get out the question. Since Killian left she'd become acutely aware of her lack of proper clothing. Though Neal had seen her this way no shortage of times, this instance made her severely uncomfortable, and she tugged her towel farther up her chest.

The memory of how he'd left her hit her like a ton of bricks - all of the anger, hurt, confusion being felt anew.

"Emma, if you'll just let me explain-" He palmed the air submissively, trying to convey that he wasn't here for a fight. But Emma was beginning to feel the sting of his betrayal all over again. He may not have been looking for a fight, but he sure as hell had just walked into one.

"Explain _what_?! Why you sold me out to the cops?" A note of sarcasm was present in her query, the harsh sting of the truth lurking just below the surface. "Why you let me go to jail for your crime?" Her voice raised several decibels, one hand motioning furiously at the space in front of her. "Why you _abandoned_ me when I was pregnant with your child?" And there it was. The accusation had flow out of her mouth before she'd had a chance to reign in her anger. Her fingers shot to her lips, trying to force the words back in.

"Your- my- my what? Emma, I didn't- I didn't think I had a choi- Are you telling me I have a _kid_?" The disjointed thoughts fell out of his mouth, his eyes searching both her face and the room for answers. She stared back at him unflinching. "Emma, if I'd known, I never would have left." His head subtly shook from side to side apologetically.

"So you would have stayed for a kid but not for me?" she shot back, brows pinching together in disbelief.

"That's not what I meant-" he started.

She closed her eyes in defeat and held up her open palms, causing his voice to break off mid-sentence. "Y'know what? Just leave."

"Can I at least meet her?" he pleaded, dipping his head forward and slightly down.

"Him," she corrected, chin jutting out obstinately. "It's a him."

She could see the faint light in his eyes as he processed the news. "We have a son?"

"No. _I_ have a son." She pulled the door open.

"Emma, please. Just let me tell you why-"

"Goodbye, Neal," she interrupted curtly. His head hung forward as he unwillingly stepped over the threshold, shoving his hands into his pockets dejectedly.

She just managed to close the door before the pressure she'd been feeling in her chest overtook her. Tears began streaming down her face, and she let them, shuffling absentmindedly over to the bed where she curled up into a tight ball.

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She woke to the sound of her phone buzzing on the pillow beside her head. Her toe was throbbing again, the effects of the pain killers worn off. She dropped her palm down onto the screen, sliding the device closer to her face so that she could make out what the caller ID said.

_Mary Margaret_

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and took a steadying breath before taking the call, propping herself up on one elbow. "Hey. Yeah, everything's fine... I just wanted to tell you- let you know that I- I just think the apartment's getting a little crowded." She held her breath in as she waited for Mary Margaret to respond.

"Charming and I have been talking about that, too. We've actually decided to get our own place." Emma could almost hear her smile as she said the words.

She couldn't help but protest. "Mary Margaret, the apartment's yours. You can't-"

"And now it can be yours," she replied sweetly. "Besides, Charming and I want our own place - somewhere we can make a home together."

A few seconds of static passed between them, then, "That's- that's great! I'm really happy for you- for both of you." Her mind wandered back to brainstorming the most appropriate way to say that she wouldn't be coming home.

"So how are you feeling?" she asked almost cheerfully, her tone several shades lighter than a few moments before.

"What?" she shot back nervously. The change in subject had caught Emma off guard, her thoughts immediately tracing over the events of the day. Did she know about Neal visiting her? About _Killian_? Oh God...

"You said you stayed with Ruby because you had a little too much to drink..." She said slowly, confusion thick in each word as she seemingly had to remind Emma of what she'd told her just previously that day.

"Oh, right. I'm fine. Ruby got me some aspirin," she recovered immediately, but Mary Margaret had already picked up on the panic in her voice at the initial query.

"There's something else you're not saying."

"It's just... I think I'm going to stay at the inn until you guys find a place. You need your space, and I feel like I'm intruding." Much to her relief, Mary Margaret didn't disagree. She didn't know what she would have done if her mother had insisted she stay.

"Okay," she said softly, the simple word laden with understanding.

They both mumbled out an awkward goodbye and hung up, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts once more. She knew that Neal wouldn't be going away; she'd have to deal with him eventually. But for now she had bigger problems: Cora. Killian had said he was read- _Killian. _Heat surged through her limbs as flashes from their earlier encounter graced her thoughts. Had they almost...? She subconsciously brought her index finger to her bottom lip, brushing it over the rounded flesh gently.

Upon registering the action she tightened her hand into a fist, bringing it back down to rest on the bed beside her hip. _No, Emma. Not again. He'll only hurt you... just like everyone else has... _She pressed her eyelids closed, keeping the other muscles in her face lax.

A quick paced knock at the door interrupted her depressing train of thought, making her vision snap to the rectangular piece of wood. She sent up a silent prayer as she walked, hoping that it was only Ruby. Sucking in a bracing breath, she cracked the door open, releasing it when she saw the brown haired girl with a pile of clean clothing folded neatly in her arms.

"Thank God it's only you." A relieved sigh passed her lips as she opened the door the rest of the way, allowing Ruby into the room. "Please tell me you have more aspirin."

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Killian stormed back onto his ship, the familiar environment soothing his tormented thoughts. He paced back and forth on the deck impatiently, stripping off his jacket and throwing it off to the side somewhere. Why did he care? _Why?!_ It didn't _matter_ if she died during this. Hell, she probably would. An agonized yell erupted from his throat as his hook connected with the boards in front of him, causing the wood to splinter around the point of impact.

Air rushed in and out of his lungs as he tried to steady himself. He pushed away from the wall, making his way to his quarters. When he opened the door his eyes immediately scanned the table to the left, finally settling on what he'd come down there for.

He cradled the telescope in his hand as though it were a new born baby, sliding his thumb down the barrel using a featherlight touch. His palm wrapped around the cool metal protectively, bringing the object toward his chest. _Milah_. She had given it to him as a present on the one year anniversary of their first meeting.

There were better spyglasses available, but he had never been able to bring himself to trade it in, especially after her death. It was all he had left of her now; that and his ever fading memories. His jaw clenched painfully, mind torn between his need for vengeance and this new, overpowering desire to keep Emma safe from harm.

He sank down into one of the nearby chairs, palm pressing into the space between his eyebrows exasperatedly. He sat like that for what felt like hours, mulling over each available option until settling on the only one that didn't make him want to tear off his own skin.

He stood resolutely, walking to the dresser and pulling open the second drawer with his hook. The black leather was cool on his hands as he lifted it up, tossing each item over to the bed before he strode over. His hand made quick work of the buttons of the shirt he was wearing, and he shrugged one shoulder out when he was able, allowing the soft fabric to fall in a puddle around his heels.

His fingers closed around the thin black linen shirt laying atop the comforter, bringing it up so that he could maneuver his limbs through the long sleeves. As the hem fell over his torso, he moved to the vest, sliding one arm through, face set stoically.

He continued trading out his stolen clothing for the worn leather garments that he'd had for so long, all the while mentally preparing himself for the fight that would be taking place come nightfall. After he pulled on the second boot, he reached for the glass vial in his pocket. _Squid ink_. He unsheathed a short dagger that was attached to his ribcage and laid it on the table in front of him. With great care, he unstopped the tube filled with black liquid and poured every last drop into the empty scabbard, sliding the blade back in once it was done.

He was pulling the leather sword belt taught around his hips when the sound of familiar footsteps reached his ears. As he turned around her voice broke the silence in the air, "Are you ready?" She'd come. A weak smile formed on his face, not quite reaching his eyes.

He breathed in sharply through his nose, stating gently, "I'm doing this alone, Swan."

"What? You said you needed my help-" she started in incredulously, her eyebrows knitting to mark how his dismissal had angered her.

"And now I don't." He blinked twice as he confidently rolled his head up.

"Hook, don't do this," she pleaded, jaw turning to the side faintly. "This is my fight, too."

His eyes shifted so that he was no longer meeting her gaze, instead staring at a silver dollar sized knot on the wall. "You could die, Emma."

"And if Cora survives she'll kill my entire family - _everyone_ I love." He could hear the panic in her voice as she said the words. It struck a chord within him, reminded him of how he'd willingly gone to his own death to guard the lives of his crew - and Milah's honor.

"You can't-"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what I can and can't do to protect my son." Her mouth was set in a straight line, fire burning behind her eyes.

He knew there would be no convincing her now. She would either kill Cora or die trying. Nothing mattered to her except her family's safety. He took a resigned step forward, motioning wordlessly with his head toward the doorframe.

A lump formed in his throat as his mind ran through all the possible ways that something could go wrong - scenarios that would end up with Emma dead. He swallowed hard, doing his best to push the thought aside. _Just kill her quickly_, he told himself over and over.


	9. Chapter 9

They walked side by side wordlessly, both so consumed by their own thoughts that they didn't bother with pointless small talk. Emma's mind was a veritable hurricane of fear and doubt. Killian needed her to be the bait - needed her to distract Cora long enough for him to subdue her. But for her to put on a convincing enough act, it meant that she was going to have to actually put herself in very real danger.

She gulped down the panic that was rising in her throat, panic that was threatening to turn into a scream if she didn't gain control of herself. She tucked a stray section of hair behind her ear and shoved her hand back into the pocket of her jacket.

"Well, darling, I'm afraid this is where we must part ways." He'd stopped walking several steps behind her. She hadn't even noticed until he spoke. Emma snapped her head around so that she could meet his gaze, giving a small, abrupt nod, lips a thin straight line.

He responded in like, though his mouth was formed into a heartening smirk. It comforted her, even though she knew it was a hollow gesture. They were both well aware of the risk they were about to take - all the things that could go wrong.

He back peddled away solemnly, only turning around after he gave a final reassuring nod. Emma set her expression and started toward the location Killian had described, stepping lightly on the forest floor so that she didn't make any unnecessary noise. A twig snapped behind her and she whirled around, arms instinctively raising into a defensive position.

"Emma," her voice was alarmingly sweet, almost inviting, and an unsettling smile was stretched across her lips, "what brings you out here?"

She slowly allowed her balled up fists to drop to her side, fingers going lax. "C-Cora" she choked out and was upset when her voice wavered. _C'mon, Emma. You can do this. _When she noticed that her hands were violently shaking, she curled her fingers back into her palms, nails cutting into the soft flesh. She steeled her nerves before continuing, jutting her chin out as she said, "I came here to talk."

An entertained giggle escaped her. "There's no need to be coy. I know you've come out here to kill me." She gestured with her arms grandly. "Or, rather... try," she mocked as she clenched the air in front of her with one hand, a translucent cloud of purple forming around it. Emma felt her limbs freeze, now unresponsive to her desperate attempts to flee.

With her peripheral vision she saw Killian slowly stalking up behind the dark haired sorceress, the reflective metal of the dagger gleaming in the moonlight that was streaming down through the canopy of trees. She dared not look directly at him for fear that Cora would notice, so she continued to stare down the woman and prayed that Killian would act quickly.

Ten feet away from her he pulled the blade back so that it was hovering near his shoulder, arm coiling into a striking position. He silently lunged forward, arm stopping inches away from the dark blue dress covering her figure, motionless as a faint lavender glow encased his form. Emma's eyes dilated in shock, nostrils flaring as she saw the last remnants of their plan crumbling.

"Oh, you silly girl. Did you think I was actually naïve enough to believe you'd come alone?" Then, to Hook, "What were you thinking - coming out here?" Her head cocked to the side in interest as she rounded on him. "Did I not make myself clear?"

"I _will_ have my revenge, you double-crossing _wench_," he growled out through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body futilely straining to break the bond of the magic surrounding him.

"Stupid boy," she scoffed, flicking her wrist and throwing his body against a nearby tree trunk. The knife fell to the forest floor next to the roots of the conifer, and his spine was forced flush against the bark, limbs still being restrained by the spell. She turned her attention back to Emma, sneering, "Just because I can't take your heart doesn't mean I can't hurt you in other ways." The look in her eyes was downright evil.

She took a step toward Killian, jaw still firmly squared at Emma. The mannered facade drained from her face, fire sparking behind her eyes as she plunged her fist into his chest.

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His vision blurred as pain spread like wildfire though his body. He could feel her fingers closing around the organ in his chest cavity, squeezing hard. She was doing her very best to make this as painful as possible. He could distantly hear agonized screams as he felt his consciousness slipping away. Was that him?

"_NOOO!"_

Suddenly the pressure around his heart released and Cora was thrown back, a wave of golden light following behind her and extending in a horizontal circular arc in all directions. A strained gasp filled his lungs as he searched for the source of the magic. Just as his eyes found her Emma's pupils rolled back into her head, and she collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Cora was already beginning to stir some yards away. With three labored strides he was on his knees beside Emma's unconscious form, forcing his arms underneath her and lifting. He could hear shallow breaths coming from her parted mouth, and a wave of relief passed over him. Her head lolled back in the cradle of his arm as he took a step forward, the desire to kill Cora paling in comparison to the need to get Emma to safety.

His ankle was yanked back as though it had been lassoed out from underneath him, and Emma's body spilled forward onto a bed of pine needles, turning over twice before coming to a rest. His limbs were once again being held motionless as he lay sprawled out face down on the cold earth.

"I wasn't done with you," she barked out, the malice in her voice hiding just below the surface. He waited for the pain to resume as her heavy footsteps neared, but she only walked past him.

He wrenched his neck to the side so that he could see what she was doing, and he locked onto her figure as she was kneeling down over Emma, a familiar dagger clenched tightly in her hand. "Cora!" he screamed out. "It's me you want!"

She angled her face so that she could meet his eyes. "Oh, no. I'm fairly certain I want her dead." The ends of her hair had become frayed, sticking out from the otherwise perfect curls and making her look even more unhinged. She started to bring her free hand down towards Emma's seemingly lifeless form.

"I threw the fight at the portal!"

Her response was a high-pitched chuckle. "And you think I don't know this? Please, like this _girl_ could have bested Captain Hook in a sword fight." She focused her attention back on Emma, rolling her limp form over and preparing to physically cut the heart from her chest.

Incoherent pleas fell from his mouth as every fiber of his being strained against the invisible forces pinning his body to the ground.

A bolt of green light collided with the blade, causing it to fly from Cora's hand. A mixture of shock and rage passed over her face as she identified the source. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, dearie." The voice was all too familiar, and Killian began tensing his constrained muscles with renewed vigor, a frustrated growl coming out when, despite his efforts, he remained flush with the forest floor.

"Rumple," she identified, "this doesn't concern you."

The memory of how Milah had died overtook his thoughts. He could feel the fires of rage burning brightly in every extension of his body, being held at bay only by the spell that was paralyzing his limbs. His mind reeled at the revelation that the Dark One still had magic in a land where he was supposed to be stripped of his powers. _The squid ink. _It would work on him, too.

"Oh, I'm afraid it does," he countered. "I'll be taking Emma with me now." He shifted his weight so that one arm was no longer resting on the cane, extending it in her direction and motioning with two fingers. Cora stepped so that her body was in between them, and both hands began to emit a faint purple glow. "Come now, dearie. Don't be difficult."

In an instant, she'd raised an arm, a pulsating wave emanating from her outstretched fingers and distorting the air on its path toward Rumple. Hook assumed it didn't have the desired effect when Cora's face contorted, and it looked at though she was straining to keep up the stream of energy. All at once he felt the downward pressure on him disappear, and he shoved himself forward to the spot where the dagger now laid.

He curled his hands around the hilt of the weapon, a sneer ticking at the corners of his mouth. _Your time has come, demon_. A quiet moan passed over Emma's lips - just loud enough to garner his attention - and he saw her head roll faintly from one side to the other. _Emma._ Cora would kill her if she survived...

He shook his head in anger, scolding himself for getting distracted. He was so close... He looked over at the ensuing duel. Both parties were completely occupied with keeping the other at bay. This was his chance - the moment he'd waited for for three hundred years. The time had come to skin his crocodile.

The blade disappeared into the sheath, coating itself once more in the toxic liquid. As he pulled it back out, panic rose in his chest. _The ground._ He snapped his head around to stare at the spot where he had been thrown down, a small, circular patch of earth now decaying where the ink had spilled.

His eyes flicked back to the now exposed blade. An area no larger than a thimble was coated in the necessary liquid. He had one shot at this. Emma let out another sigh and her eyelashes started to flutter open weakly.

"K-Killian?" Her disoriented gaze coupled with the name she whispered caused something inside him to break. A guttural yell erupted from his chest when he realized what he had to do. His crocodile would have to wait. A sudden surge of energy coursed through his veins, and he charged forward.

The ink-tipped blade sank smoothy into her soft flesh, only stopping once the protective guard around the hilt was flush with the fabric of her dress. The stream of magic ceased and the glow that had encased her hands vanished. She dropped to the ground one knee at a time, chin tilting down to see the knife protruding from her chest. Neck shaking, she turned to meet his gaze, a look of disbelief set in her features. "You... chose... her...?" was choked out as she struggled to suck oxygen into her failing lungs.

With a final breath she keeled over, and her shoulder connected with the cold ground.

Hook's breathing was ragged as he met the eyes of the man who had killed the woman he'd loved. He picked the cane back up from where it had fallen and began to walk off in the direction he'd come from.

His foot jerked forward as he made to follow, but a sudden pressure on his upper arm caused him to halt. _Emma. _He turned his head to meet her eyes. They were large and pleading, brows furrowing together subtlely as she tacitly begged him not to pursue the man.

He sank to his knees defeatedly, shins pressing into the soft moss and pine needles below. He heard her footsteps as she backed away slowly, eventually distancing herself enough that the only sounds he could hear were those of the forest life around him. His rage gradually ebbed as he took deep breaths of the cool night air.

_I'm sorry, Milah._


	10. Chapter 10

Emma's hands shook as she trudged through the darkened forest, twigs and fallen acorns snapping beneath the weight of her steps. _What the hell was that?_ Her mind was reeling at everything that had just happened. She'd used magic again, and it had knocked her unconscious. It felt like someone had attached a vacuum to her life force - all of the energy was just sucked out of her without so much as a moment's notice.

She hadn't even been trying to use magic, and she felt like she'd been violated because it had happened against her will - _again_. A pit was beginning to form in her stomach as she realized that the price for using it this time had cost her much more than it had at the portal. She replayed everything - any detail about the events leading up to it - she could remember.

Cora had held her motionless, and then Killian had been discovered and thrown against the tree. And then... and then she'd tried to take his heart. The agonized sound of Killian's cries echoed in her ears anew. She'd been hurting him_ so much_. Emma just wanted it to stop; she couldn't bear another second of seeing him - hearing him in such pain. And then she was unconscious.

It had been Killian, or, rather, her reaction to seeing his features twist in agony as Cora threatened to tear the heart from his chest. _He_ was the reason her magic had activated. Emma stopped walking and pressed a palm to her abdomen, trying to still the maelstrom of emotions currently battling inside her.

She pushed the fear and confusion from her mind and instead tried to recall what happened after she regained consciousness. She remembered hearing what sounded like sharp cracks of thunder, and she could discern pulses of bright light through her still closed eyelids. The first thing she saw when she finally managed to force her eyes open was his face. Killian had been kneeling over her. And... and Cora and Gold were throwing spells at each other, and - _Gold!_ Gold had been there.

_But how did he find us? How did he know where we were? Who had... Ruby._ The only other person in town that knew about Killian was Ruby. She had to have said something to Gold. The man was good at being abreast of everyone's business, but even he wasn't all-knowing.

Emma started forward again, trying her best not to jump to conclusions about what Ruby had or hadn't done but finding that betrayal-fueled anger was welling up inside her anyway. She forced her mind away from what was quickly turning into a very steep downward spiral of possibly misplaced rage and resumed thinking about all that had just happened with Cora.

_Okay, so Gold was there. And then Killian stabbed Cora._ But she knew there was more to it than that. Why had he screamed? And then Cora's words hit her. _"You... chose... her..."_ He'd chosen her? Chosen _what_? He stabbed Cora. What other option did he _ha_- Gold. His crocodile. He'd been right there...

Killian could have gotten his revenge, but he didn't. _Why?_ What reason could he have had for using the blade on Cora instead of the man he'd been hunting for three centuries? Unless... unless he'd been trying to protect her. Cora would have undoubtedly killed Emma had she survived the battle with Gold, but she would have most likely spared Killian if he'd saved her life.

Emma suddenly felt nauseous. She quickened her pace, stumbling onto the roughly paved road in another several steps. She needed to find Ruby.

_God, I hope she's got a bottle of something strong..._

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Killian turned the telescope over in his hand absentmindedly, his neck angled awkwardly against the headboard of the bed and his legs stretched completely out in front of him. He'd lost track of how long he'd been laying there; his stomach had stopped begging for sustenance hours ago, finally reaching the point where it no longer made sound - all attempts at conveying hunger now abandoned.

His one chance to exact vengeance on Milah's killer was now gone. Rumplestiltskin would never be so vulnerable again, and, even if he was, Killian had used the last drops of squid ink to subdue Cora. Without it there was no conceivable way to kill the crocodile. He didn't have the Dark One's blade, but even if he did... he'd been warned of what would happen were he to use it.

No, there was no way to kill the beast without becoming one himself. Or, rather, becoming more of one. He sneered in disgust at what he'd turned into. _What would Milah think of me?_ He clutched his fingers tighter around the barrel of the spyglass. The rage that had been fueling him was gone, replaced by a feeling of defeated indifference - toward everything. Toward Gold. Toward himself. Toward life.

He couldn't do just this _one thing_ right. He'd managed to fail just as he had three hundred years ago. He couldn't protect Milah then, and he couldn't avenge her death now. _You're a pathetic excuse for a man..._

He didn't remember falling asleep, but as he looked around the cabin - now illuminated by golden rays of sunlight - he knew upwards of eight hours must have passed. When he moved his neck a sharp twinge of pain shot down his spine; sleeping in the unnatural position had taken its toll on his muscles.

He swung his legs over the ledge of the mattress and forced himself to standing, pressing his palm into the base of his neck and stretching his chin to either side in an attempt to work out one of the knots. The table in front of him had papers strewn all over, save for the space he'd cleared when he was tending to Emma's wounds.

He strode over and rested his weight on the hook while he used his other hand to re-separate the pile of drawings and documents he'd stacked. His fingers lingered on one in particular - the one depicting Rumplestiltskin's blade. _If only there was a way..._ But there wasn't - at least not one that would leave him human.

He set the paper aside and stalked out of the room, impotent rage consuming his mind.

Rum. He needed rum.

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"Ruby, what the hell?!" Emma stormed through the front door of the inn, hands gesturing wildly at the air in front of her.

Ruby cocked her head to the side and sat up a little straighter. "I'm sorry, I don't follow," she replied in a puzzled tone.

"You told Gold about Killian." Ruby's expression only became more confused. "...Didn't you?"

"Emma, what are you talking about?" Ruby stood up and maneuvered her body around the desk between them, crossing her arms over her chest and dipping her chin in apprehension. "What's going on?"

The girl wasn't lying; of that Emma was sure. A deep crease appeared on the patch of skin between her eyebrows. "You really don't have any idea." It was almost a question. Then, more seriously, "Grab something with alcohol in it. You're gonna need it." Emma sighed heavily and plopped down on the nearby chair, extending her legs in front of her and wishing she was anywhere else.

Emma told Ruby the abridged version of the events that took place the previous night, and - in between interruptions of "Emma!" and "What?!" - eventually made it to the end of the story. Ruby took a pensive sip of the liquor she'd poured herself at Emma's initial suggestion, eyes fixated on some unimportant spot on the floor.

"The other day. It must have been the other day when Killian came to visit you. After he left, Rumple showed up - not even two minutes later. He came in through the back, and I didn't even hear him until he was right behind me. I was going to tell you when I brought you your clothes, but then you just seemed so stressed-"

Emma palmed the air soothingly in an effort to allay Ruby's concerns. "It's fine, Ruby." She let her hand drop heavily to her thigh. "I actually think the only reason I'm alive right now is because he intervened."

"Woah," Ruby breathed out, eyebrows lifting in shock.

Though she was happy to still have a pulse, Emma felt uneasy. "Yeah. But... why?"

Ruby leaned forward in her chair, cradling the drink between her palms and coming to rest both forearms on her knees. "Sounds like a question for Rumplestiltskin."

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_What's the bloody point?_ Killian knocked back another mouthful of the liquid fire, his head already feeling light from consuming half a handle of crudely distilled rum. Nothing mattered anymore. Three centuries of planning... for what?

Without the blasted squid ink there wasn't a way to kill the beast. Well, that wasn't entirely true, but Killian couldn't bear the thought of turning himself into the very monster he was trying to kill.

_But what if..._ The alcohol lubricated gears in his head began turning, picking up speed as each subsequent piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Killian re-corked the glass container and set it down on the worn wooden planks of the table with a resolute _thud_. He would skin his crocodile yet...

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"Gold." The dainty bell chimed violently as Emma threw open the door to the shop. "You wanna tell me what happened last night?" It was more of a command than a question, and Gold turned around slowly at the sound of her voice, an empty smile firmly etched in his features.

"It's quite simple, really." His eyebrows shot up. "I saved your life, dearie."

Though about a million more questions invaded her thoughts at his answer, she didn't allow herself to become distracted. "How did you know about Cora?" Emma continued flatly.

"Perhaps you should talk to your one-handed friend about that." He quipped, tone dangerously level, the hint of a threat veiled just under the surface.

Emma's patience was wearing thin. She didn't know why this was bothering her so much - not knowing how or why Gold had become involved. "Enough! How did you find us, Gold?"

"Pushy today, aren't we?" "Very well. I happened to see Hook-" the use of his moniker unsettled Emma, and her top lip ticked imperceptibly in disgust at the man who had taken Killian's hand in the first place "-leaving the inn yesterday when I came to collect the rent. It wasn't hard to figure out that he didn't come to Storybrooke alone, and a simple tracking spell revealed Cora's location."

Something wasn't adding up to Emma. It seemed out of character for Gold to simply walk into a fight. That wasn't his style. He fought his battles behind the scenes, normally before they even started. It was why he was so dangerous. "Why confront her?" she asked slowly, each word connected by the confusion in her tone.

"I had a feeling she might want you dead," he took a step closer to Emma, "and we can't have that." His accent rang thick in the words.

Her head moved back cautiously, instinctively. "What are you playing at, Gold?"

"Let's just say..." he paused, looking at the ground for inspiration, "you're valuable - alive. And you still owe me a favor." His face contorted into a momentary sneer at the final word, and Emma gulped down her unease.

Her eyes narrowed softly, and she decided she'd had just about enough of Gold for one day. "Stay away from Killian," she cautioned before making her way back toward the entrance of the cluttered shop.

"You should listen to your own advice, Ms. Swan," he called after her, and she heard the almost threat in the words, just as before.

Emma stopped on the spot, cocked her head to the side and, as she was still facing the door, asked, "Does Belle know?"

"What?" He breathed out a laugh, begrudgingly humoring her seemingly random inquiry.

"About Milah." She turned to face him, eyes cold with warning. "About how you killed your own wife."

The mask of civility shattered, and suddenly Emma was staring at the Rumplestiltskin so many in this town feared. "Who told you- never mind." His open mouth quirked to the side, and he re-settled his weight on the cane, bringing his tormented gaze up to meet her own. "That is _none_ of your business, Ms. Swan."

Emma felt the warmth leave her veins, but she kept up the hardened facade. "Stay away from Killian," she repeated, this time with more force. Her heart was racing in her chest as she turned on her heel abruptly and wrenched the door back open, the bell chiming noisily again.

"Think about what you're doing, Emma." His voice was low and menacing as it reached her ears, and she blamed the shiver that ran up her spine on the winter breeze.


	11. Chapter 11

Rumplestiltskin had to have the blade somewhere close to him. He wouldn't entrust such a powerful object to anyone apart from himself, and he'd keep it nearby so that he was always sure of where it was.

_There is only one such place_, Killian thought. Being a pirate had steeled his tolerance over the years, and he'd mastered the art of combatting the numbing effects of alcohol quite well. His brain was now operating as though he was sober, save for every few minutes when he lost his train of thought.

As he was working his limbs back into the stolen clothing that would allow him to blend in with the rest of the townsfolk, thoughts of Milah - how she'd smelled, what her laugh had sounded like, the way her eyes had sparkled something fierce when the light from the setting sun caught them just right - enveloped his mind. He shook away the images before they became too much to bear, a rough lump remaining in his throat. The knife would be somewhere in his shop, most likely buried beneath an inauspicious mound of trinkets.

One of the first things Killian had done upon arriving in Storybrooke was to locate his foe. He'd watched from afar on the rooftops, his telescope providing him with a close up view of the people mulling about below.

As he did up the last button on the blue flannel shirt his eyes found the battered old spyglass Milah had given to him so many years ago. His heart suddenly felt like a lead weight in his chest, and he closed his eyes tight as another flood of memories passed over him.

Soon he wouldn't have to endure the pain of remembering; soon both he and his crocodile would be dead. After Killian found the Dark One's dagger, he'd use it to kill the monster; but he refused to continue living as the very thing he'd hunted for three hundred years, so, after Rumplestiltskin was dead, he would turn the blade on himself. And then everything would be over.

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Killian hugged the storefronts as he walked through the center of town, the collar of his heavy coat turned up and his chin tucked down. From his earlier expeditions he knew that Rumplestiltskin's shop had a rear entrance. He'd sneak in through that door and look through the items strewn about the back room; if that failed to produce the desired item, he'd move to the front of the store. But he didn't want to unnecessarily risk exposure if he didn't have to.

The brick wall on the rear of the building was cool and rough against his back as he forced himself flush with it, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up in anticipation and trepidation at what he was about to do. For several long seconds Killian held his breath, listening for activity inside the shop before he finally wrapped his hand around the metal door knob and pulled.

Dead silence. He closed the door just as quietly as he'd opened it and strode lightly over to a cluttered shelf that looked promising.

He'd only just put down a long, rectangular wooden box - which contained absolutely nothing, much to Killian's disappointment - when a bell from somewhere in the front of the shop chimed its warning that the door had been opened.

Killian heard the sound of uneven footsteps growing closer to him, and he knew of only one person in the town who walked with such a limp.

A heartbeat before the man crossed the threshold to the back room the tiny bell chimed again.

"Gold. You wanna tell me what happened last night?" _Emma._ She was here. His heart panged at her nearness, and something like regret filled his thoughts as he realized what he'd come there to do.

He padded softly toward the rear exit while Emma and Gold - as she called him - carried on in the main room, carefully stepping so as to make the least amount of noise possible. He tucked himself behind one of the tall shelves and waited for his chance to slip out. He would obviously have to return later to resume his search for the dagger.

Then, "Stay away from Killian." He froze where he stood, breathing temporarily ceasing as he processed her warning. She was _defending_ him.

And then it was as if the fog of depression was lifted from him. What the _hell_ had he been thinking? He couldn't die - couldn't leave her just as that bastard Neal had. He still didn't know what was going on between them, but he'd be damned if he was going to be another spineless man in her life who abandoned her.

He managed to silently slip out the back door just as Emma was repeating her warning for a second time, and he heard the bell ringing in annoyance as she stormed out the front of the shop.

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What the _hell_ had she been thinking? Had she really just threatened the most dangerous man in Storybrooke? _Oh, God. Breathe, Emma._ What in God's name had possessed her to say that?

"Hello, love." Speak of the devil. "Fancy seeing you here." His voice was low but it had a lightness in it that she hadn't heard since their time in Fairytale Land. The momentary relief she'd felt at seeing him alive and well was soon replaced by terror.

"Hook, what the _hell_ are you doing?" She crossed over to him in two strides, gripping his biceps roughly and shoving him into an alley. "Someone could see you!"

He rolled his eyes but didn't resist as she pushed him into the shadows. "I'm doing fine, thanks for asking." She ignored him but realized that her breathing had become ragged; she tried to take calming breaths as she surveyed the man in front of her. Apart from a couple of minor scratches, he seemed fine. "You planning on letting go anytime soon? This fabric wrinkles easily." Emma looked to where her fingers were still firmly clamping down on his muscles and her hands shot open wide. "I could always just take the shirt off."

Emma's face contorted into an offended grimace, but her cheeks flushed at the thought. She took a deep breath; then, softly, "What are you doing, Hook? It's the middle of the day. People could see you." She gestured to the town behind her back, not breaking eye contact.

"And that-" he took a step closer "-concerns you?"

_Yes._ "No, it's just... just... Look, there are people in this town who want you dead."

"Ah, you mean Rumplestiltskin. Never mind him, love. I can take care of myself." He winked, tilting even farther into her personal space as he did so.

Emma rotated her head to the side as she tried to discern his meaning. "I'm not gonna let you kill him, Hook," she finally said slowly.

"Yes, because that's even possible now." He took a step back, and she could see the anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface. His tone was smooth, but his eyes told a different story. "You needn't worry, sheriff. I don't have any immediate plans to carry out my revenge on the Crocodile."

"Look, I know he's done some bad things to you-"

"Bad things? _Bad things?!_" Killian's voice raised to match the level of rage building inside him.

"Shhhh!" Emma pleaded, patting the air in front of her with both hands as she looked around nervously. Soon someone would hear him and then she'd have to keep half the town from trying to string him up by his bootstraps.

"He killed the woman I loved, and then he took my hand!" He raised the hooked appendage up to eye level to illustrate his point, a second later pressing his eyes shut tightly and taking a centering breath. "No, Swan," he continued in a level tone. "He's done more than 'bad things.'"

"I didn't mea-" Emma was cut off by a familiar ringing coming from her jacket pocket. She let out an audible groan before wrenching the device from the zippered compartment and glancing at the backlit screen. _Regina._ If she forwarded this call, it would surely come back to bite her in the ass. She gave Killian an apologetic look as she brought the phone to her ear, knowing full well that their conversation was far from over. "Hello?"

He tried to object but was cut off by her greeting. Emma kept her gaze fixed on him as he moved closer, undeterred by her preoccupation with the phone call. "Yeah, tomorrow's fine." Killian took another step, pausing when his chest was pressing against her shoulder, and Emma covered the microphone with her palm.

He dipped his his head until his exhales caused strands of her hair to dance. Emma allowed her eyes to glance sideways but held her head motionless. Then, in a low voice just above a whisper, "We'll finish this later. Meet me on my ship tonight."

She refused to turn around, to watch him as he walked away, but she could hear the sound of his footsteps fading as he strode down the sidewalk. The soft _thump_ of his rubber soles against the hard concrete momentarily caused her concentration to falter.

"Emma. Emma. Emma, are you even listening?"

"Yeah, Regina. I'm here. Tomorrow's great." She pulled her attention back to the present, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her fingers into her forehead.

"Good. You can come by the house after lunch."

"That sounds great. How's-" she caught herself before continuing, unsure of how Regina would react to the question. "How's the kid?"

"Henry's doing fine. He, uh... he misses you," she admitted reluctantly. Emma said nothing in response, and a static-filled silence followed. "So we'll see you tomorrow... Emma." Regina ended the call without another word, but it hadn't escaped Emma's attention that Regina had addressed her by her first name - unironically. Perhaps she really was turning over a new leaf.

Emma's heart sank as she realized that sooner or later Regina would find out about what happened to her mother. _I should be the one to tell her_, she concluded. Given the chance, Gold would no doubt inflame the situation, and Emma wanted to avoid as much conflict as possible. She thought very briefly of calling Regina back, but decided that this topic would be handled better with an in-person conversation. _Tomorrow, it is._

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The stairwell of her apartment building was empty and stuffy as she made her way to the correct floor, her footsteps echoing off the hard walls. She peeled the leather jacket off her arms, immediately feeling relief as a self-made breeze caressed her exposed skin. Necessity had driven her back to her parents' place; one outfit (and the random assortment of shirts she kept in the trunk of her car) could only last so many days. Emma needed clean clothes, which meant venturing back to the apartment to raid her dresser.

She turned the knob and pushed, but the door was met with resistance from the other side when it was about half-way open. Emma poked her head through the crack and saw just why the door's swing had been halted. Towers of cardboard moving boxes engulfed the main room of the apartment.

"Emma? Emma, is that you?" Mary Margaret's voice carried from the back bedroom.

_Oh God. I just walked in on my parents... again_. Emma pinched her eyes closed, mentally cursing herself for failing to knock."Yeah, it's me," she answered reluctantly, carefully maneuvering through the maze of cardboard around her. "I just needed some clean clothes."

Much to her relief, a fully clothed Mary Margaret popped around the corner half a second later. "You should've called," she scolded. "If I'd known you were coming, I would've made you something to eat."

"It's fine. I planned on just grabbing some clothes and heading out anyway." Before she'd gotten the sentence out Mary Margaret's expression had grown concerned; her mother's eyes were now frantically raking up and down her body. Emma glanced down, only realizing just now that visible bruising and scratches could be seen on her exposed skin. _Ahhh, shit._

David walked into sight, a dirty dishrag hung over his left shoulder. "Hey, Emma," he greeted cheerfully, sidling up beside his wife. "We weren't expecting you."

"Emma... what happened?" Mary Margaret reached out as if to touch the damaged skin, but instead balled her hand into a fist and let it drop back to her side.

Emma closed her eyes and sighed. _Well, they have to find out sometime_, she reasoned. "You're gonna want to sit down for this."


End file.
